The Perfect Guy (Books We Love Young Adult Romance) (12 page)

BOOK: The Perfect Guy (Books We Love Young Adult Romance)
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At home, just walking from the car to the house with Pres made me tense. I’d never really pictured him with another girl, especially not Alicia. I longed to ask him about it, but I certainly didn’t want him to think I’d been deliberately spying. So I walked along in an uncomfortable silence until we got inside, where I yawned elaborately and made a dash for the sanctuary of my room. I threw myself on my bed and grabbed Arf. I remembered Sylvester, who’d been a gift from Pres after all, and I hugged both stuffed animals.

I’d have to think of what to do. First thing in the morning I’d come up with a plan. No, first thing in the morning I’d call Celeste. Since the next day was Saturday, we could go somewhere really private and talk. If Celeste still
could
talk.

Poor Celeste. It would be almost as traumatic for her as it was for me. Alicia was obviously after the role of Alta every bit as much as she was after Pres.

Pres, the innocent victim. What did he know about girls like Alicia, with their wiles and cunning?

 

***

 

The next morning I woke up still clutching Arf and Sylvester. A foul film lined my mouth. I got up, shed my rumpled clothes, pulled on my robe, and headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower. If only I could wash away the memory of seeing Pres kiss Alicia as easily as I could brush away the bad taste in my mouth.

I passed Pres in the hall and he mumbled a groggy good morning. It didn’t seem that kissing Alicia had any lasting ill effects on him. He just looked tired, not doomed or cursed or anything. Too bad. I would have felt better if he had.

After I showered, dressed, and forced down some breakfast, I called Celeste. A deep raspy voice answered the phone and I wondered if I had the wrong number.

"Hello?" I said. "May I speak to Celeste?"

"This is Celeste."

"I didn’t recognize your voice. Your voice, you can talk. Out loud!"

"More or less," Celeste squeaked.

"Thank goodness. I was getting frantic."

"You? Why?"

"Because—never mind. I’ll tell you later. Can we go somewhere and talk? Somewhere private?" I didn’t want to take a chance that Pres or Josh might overhear us.

"Sounds mysterious." Celeste always did like any situation that was even remotely clandestine. "How about the library?"

"No." I had visions of Alicia lurking behind every shelf. "I know. Let’s go to the park overlooking the town beach. Meet me at the corner of
Wharf Lane and Maple Avenue?"

"Sure," Celeste
said. "Just give me ten minutes to get ready."

On my way to meet Celeste I ignored the occasional drops of rain that splattered on my head. I quickened my steps as I got closer to
Maple Avenue. I couldn’t hold in the details of what I’d witnessed last night much longer.

Celeste was nowhere in sight when I reached the corner. I stamped my feet, as much to alleviate my exasperation at Celeste for not being there as to ward off the unexpected morning chill. I wished I’d worn my parka over my sweater.

Finally, after I was reduced to hopping in place to keep warm, Celeste rounded the corner at full speed, her cheeks glowing red.

"Sorry I’m late. I had to feed the dog before I left. There was no dog food in the pantry, so I had to get some from the garage and—forget it. Let’s get to the park before it rains." Celeste pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head. "Unless you think it’s
…" She cleared her throat and continued, "...safe to tell me here."

I surveyed the hedges, shrubs, and trees that lined the street. No telling who might be skulking around behind them. "We’d better go to the park." I paused. Then, "By the way, your voice sounds a lot better. Think you’ll be okay for the next rehearsal?"

"Oh, I think so," Celeste said. "It’s improved a lot just since yesterday, and the next rehearsal isn’t until Monday evening."

"Good. Good." I walked faster. It was all I could do to keep from running. I wanted to get to the park and tell Celeste all about last night, to warn her about Alicia.

When we got to the park I looked around to make sure no one was hiding behind or up a tree, then dismissed the thought as ridiculous. How would Alicia know that Celeste and I were at the park? Still ....

"Let’s sit over there." I pointed to a solitary bench clear of bushes that might shroud any spies. "It’ll be best if you’re sitting down when I tell you everything anyway."

"Okay," Celeste said. "But let’s get it over with. It looks as though it might pour any moment."

We sat on the green wooden bench and I told Celeste about what I’d seen in the shadows backstage.

"I knew it was Pres right away," I said. "I recognized his voice. At first I couldn’t tell who he was kissing, because I couldn’t see her face. But when the moonlight reflected off her hair, I knew for sure."

"Who was it?"

"Alicia Johnson. The rat."

"Are you s-sure?"

"Positive."

"You—you’re
really
that sure? But—but how?"

"That long black hair that she’s forever combing—oh. I forgot. Before Pres kissed her he said, ‘
You’re
the perfect Alta.’ She’s after your part as much as she’s after Pres. Doesn’t that make you sick?"

Celeste nodded.

"Yikes, you look green." I felt Celeste’s forehead. "Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I mean, you’re getting your voice back, so there’s no way Alicia could ever get your part."

"No, I’m glad you told me." Celeste leaned back and sighed deeply. "It’s you I’m worried about. You like Pres so much and
...." Her voice trailed off for a second. "I don’t want you to get hurt."

"Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan."

"Already?" Celeste chewed her lip.

"It’s okay. Just listen. I started thinking while I was waiting for you at the corner. Step one: I’m going to stick like glue to Alicia at rehearsals from now on. No way will she have a chance to be alone with Pres." I pounded the bench.

"And steps two and three?"

"I haven’t gotten that far yet. But don’t worry. I’m not going to let a flirt like Alicia get her
claws on Pres. I’ll bet she figures she can get him to take her to the graduation party. Speaking of which, have you lined up any prospects? You can’t wait forever, you know."

"I—uh—I have enough to think about right now with the play. I really don’t want to go anyway, unless it’s with someone special."

"I can’t believe my ears. Celeste Sullivan not interested in the graduation party? The same Celeste Sullivan who’s been dating constantly ever since her parents gave her permission? The same Celeste who hasn’t been without a boyfriend for more than a week at most?"

"I’m tired of dating just for the sake of dating." Celeste picked at her fingernails. "I mean, I still like guys, but I’m looking for more than just fun. I want to wait for something meaningful." She paused, then said, "I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings—"

"Hold it." I put my fingers to my lips. "Someone’s coming."

A car pulled up to the edge of the park. Josh got out.

"Josh. What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Mom told me you were here at my favorite thinking place, so I came to rescue my two favorite damsels from potential distress."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Josh pointed up to the sky. "Those huge black clouds mean that any second now this occasional sprinkle will turn into a vicious downpour. But I, your knight in shining chrome," he said, thumbing toward the car, "can save you. In other words, how about a ride?"

"The mist
is
getting a little heavy," Celeste pointed out.

"You’re right," I said. "Let’s go."

We hurried back to the car and dove inside just before a cloudburst struck.

"Brrr." I scrunched down on the seat between Josh and Celeste. "Who’d have thought we’d have such a cold day this late in the spring?"

"I’ll get the heat going." Josh leaned across me and fiddled with some buttons on the panel.

"We’ll freeze if we have to wait for that thing to warm up," Celeste said. "How about taking me to the library? They have heat, and I’ve got some heavy-duty research to do on an English term paper."

"Maybe I’ll tag along," I said. "I can always find something interesting at the library."

"Rebecca," Josh said, "if you don’t have anything special planned this morning, why don’t you come with me? I’m going over to Mrs. Griswold’s. She has a barn full of old furniture and tools and stuff. She said we could borrow whatever we could use for the play."

"All right," I said. Though props weren’t my responsibility, I felt that Josh had done so much to help me it was only fair that I help him, even though it meant losing time with Celeste. "There’s nothing I
have
to do at the library. Sounds like fun."

"Great." Josh stopped in front of the library. "Here you are, Celeste. Want a ride later?"

"I don’t know when I’ll be ready to leave," she said. "Don’t worry about me. I’ll find my way home."

Just as I waved goodbye to Celeste, I caught a glimpse of someone sprinting in the side door. I said, "That looks like Pres."

"Who? Where?" Josh craned his neck to see.

"He’s inside already." I sighed. "Well, it really doesn’t matter," I said, though, of course, it did to me. I would have liked to go in and see if Pres was meeting Alicia. But I’d already said I’d go with Josh. At least Celeste would be around to keep an eye on Pres, if it was him. I shivered. "
Hey, doesn’t it ever get warm in here?"

"Once in a while this heater lets loose with a molecule or two of heat," Josh said, pounding the thing with his fist. "This doesn’t seem to be one of those days." He put his arm around me. "How’s this? Any improvement?"

"Better." I snuggled against Josh for a moment and enjoyed the warmth and coziness. "Maybe you ought to use both hands to drive."

"Whatever you say," Josh said. "You know, your wish is always my command."

Chapter Thirteen

 

As the night of the play drew closer, I began to panic. I’d been so busy tailing Alicia at rehearsals and making sure she had no time to spend alone with Pres that I hadn’t contributed much in my role as assistant director. I had made a few more suggestions, some of which Bill accepted without comment, while he rejected the others with a lengthy explanation of why they were impractical. At least I was there at every rehearsal, watching how things were going and taking notes for future reference, in case I ever got the nerve to write another play.

I’d begun to worry about the production being a flop. It would be all my fault. It’d been my idea and I was the author. If the play bombed, I’d have to hide in my locker for the rest of the school year.

One bright spot in what I felt was impending doom was the cast party. Mom had suggested it one night at dinner. Bill and Pres and I all thought it was a great idea. It really surprised and pleased me when Pres suggested Mom organize it, since, as he said, it was her idea. She said she would if he’d help plan a menu. After that they had their heads together in a cookbook every night after supper. Pres even started accepting her offers to help cook dinner.

I wished my relationship with Bill, and Pres for that matter, was moving along as smoothly. I envisioned the cast party, however, as the setting for my night of triumph, at least with Pres.

I explained my plan to Celeste one day as we munched apples in my room. I stopped eating and stood for added dramatic effect. "Caught up in the success of the play, applause still ringing in his ears, Pres will turn to me, realize I was the cause of his success and happiness, and kiss me in front of everyone, most particularly Alicia. Then, after the party is over and everyone else goes home, I’ll take Pres’s hand and tell him how much I care for him. I’ll tell him how I’ll miss him after he graduates and goes off to school in the fall. At the mention of graduation he’ll gasp and promptly ask me to be his date for the graduation party, and forever after." I clasped my hands to my chest and took a small bow.

"Are you sure this isn’t just your writer’s imagination working overtime?" Celeste crunched an apple.

"Oh, no," I said. "Pres’s feelings for me are simmering just below the surface. He may not realize it yet, but by the time of the cast party it will occur to him that those feelings for me are more than just brotherly. He’s been suppressing his true emotions."

"Why would he do that?"

"Celeste." I stuck my hands on my hips. "Don’t get technical about it. Who can explain how people deal with their subconscious?"

"I guess you believe what you want to believe," Celeste said. "Just promise me you won’t get
all twisted if it turns out that Pres merely thinks you’re just the best sister anyone could ever have. You know, in one way having Pres’s brotherly love is probably stronger, and longer lasting, than his love as a boyfriend would ever be."

"Don’t worry. If that should possibly, remotely, turn out to be the way that Pres feels, I’d just figure it was a good place to start."

BOOK: The Perfect Guy (Books We Love Young Adult Romance)
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