The Sweetest Thing (22 page)

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath, relieved to just say the words. “I am sorry. I’m not doing anything right and I hate it.” I am crying again. For the millionth time today. “And I don’t want to lose you, too.”

He hesitates. “Okay. Calm down.”

“Okay, what? Okay, you forgive me? Or okay, you’re through with me?”

I hear him sigh. “You know you’re not getting rid of me that easy.” I sigh, too, so glad to hear those words. “But I still can’t stand Ethan. Just so you know.”

“Fair enough.” I laugh. “And I can’t stand Haley. Just so you know.”

He’s silent for a long second. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Look, I was mad at you. And she asked me. It made sense at the time. But there’s not much to her, really, other than what we already knew was there.”

I sit down, my out-of-whack world a little closer to being back in orbit. “Good.”

“How’s the mom hunt?”

I pause. “Don’t ask.” I press my fingers to my temple and my voice breaks. “Not good.”

“Okay, change of subject, then?” he says. “How’s that art project coming?”

229

I sniff. “Done.”

“For real?”

“Yes, for real,” I say, and wipe my eyes. “I’m done.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Jack . . . I
am
done.”

He laughs. “So can I see it?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“They’re filming us at the bakery tonight. You wanna come?” Having him there might just make it bearable.

“Will I be in the way?”

“No way.”

“Ethan going to be there?”

“No.” Haley is probably still at his house, doing “homework.”

“Good. I’ll come over,” he says. “And Sheridan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you called.”

I laugh, so relieved. “Me, too.” I hang up, rub the bird charm on my bracelet. Check my cell phone to make sure it’s charged and the signal is strong. I’m not giving up on Mom yet.

I need to look on the bright side here. I’ve just patched things up with Jack. The project is finished. Nanny is on the mend.

Miracles are happening all over the place.

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The camera crew films me making a gum-paste hibiscus flower for the cake; then they ask me to show Dad how to do it.

He’s nervous. Thinks I’m a loose cannon, like I might lose it in front of the camera. Well, I won’t. I told him: if he goes to New York, we’re through. If he thinks I’m gonna change my mind, he’s wrong.

I cut out the shape of the petal. Dad tries to copy, but he’s miserable at this. It’s very funny, and I’m sure this segment will be good for some laughs on ExtremeCuisine TV.

At one point, he holds up his awful petal and says, “You have so much more talent than your old man.” Then, while they are still filming, he puts his arm around me. “Love you.”

He sounds so sincere that I almost believe him. But when Amazon yells “Cut!” he drops his arm and walks over to talk to her.

Jack shows up while we’re filming and watches quietly from the back. When we’re done, and they whisk Dad into the front of the bakery to watch the footage, I wrap my arms around Jack’s neck in the longest, tightest hug ever.

“All right . . . can’t breathe.” He pulls me off him.

I hold up my arm and rattle my wrist, showing him the bracelet. “Thank you. I love it.”

“Yeah, I knew you would. Babes and jewelry and all,” he says, his brown eyes all lit up.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I say.

It’s good to be myself with Jack right now, even though it’s strange to know that he’s got this crush on me. As we talk, I notice he’s acting different—holds my gaze just a little longer than normal, smiles at me for no good reason. The biggest surprise of all, though, is the fact that I’m acting kind of different, too.

Then I remind myself to stop. I have a boyfriend. I think.

“Hey,” I say as I settle down to work on another petal. “If you’re free tomorrow after school, I thought . . . I was hoping maybe you could take me to see Nanny?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“I haven’t gone yet.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The thought of seeing her like that freaks me out 232

a little.” I attach the petal to a small metal pin that sticks out of a Styrofoam base. It will take at least a day to dry. “But I’ve gotta do it.”

“Okay, I’ll take you.”

“I can’t stay long. I’ve got a wardrobe fitting.” And plans with Ethan at the harbor, but I keep that to myself.

“All right. We can leave after school, then?”

“Perfect.”

He looks at his watch. “Well, I guess I should go.”

He sticks his hands in his pockets and hovers like he has something more to say.

I put down my work, nod my head. “Cool. I’m about ready to pack it in, too.”

“Okay, cool.”

I walk with him into the alley, holding open the screen door with my body He stops. We’re standing in the shadows, a light breeze dances between us. But he doesn’t make a move to leave.

“What is it?” I nudge his arm and laugh. “Are we okay?”

He doesn’t speak, just stares down at me, his eyes cutting through the darkness. Then he takes a step closer.

He looks hungry; he looks like he wants me. I let go of the door. Jack lifts a hand and touches my cheek. “I’m sorry if this ruins everything, Sheridan. But if I don’t do it now, I have a feeling I’m gonna be sorry.” He brings up his other hand and holds my face, all the while looking at me with those starving dark eyes.

233

“What are you doing?” I whisper, but it’s a stupid question, because I already know the answer.

He lowers his head and his lips touch mine. His mouth presses softly, tender but firm, so that I have no doubt it’s happened. Then I feel that same electric current, the one I felt that night at my house, only this time multiplied by a thousand. My eyes snap shut, and I am transported like those people on
Star Trek
, blown into a million pieces and floating weightless through outer space. And my brain begins to process what is happening: Jack is kissing Sheridan.

Then he stops. He smiles, drops his hands to his sides, and walks away down the alley without a word. A few minutes later, when I hear the crew come back into the kitchen, I force myself to unfreeze and act like nothing happened.

Even though something definitely did. I know this because my legs feel like Jell-O and I can’t focus on what the people around me are saying.

I hear footsteps and look up to see Mr. Roz heading down the alley. Instantly I recall my despicable behavior.

He smiles at me and I wonder how I could have been so cruel to him.

“Oh, Mr. Roz, I’m so sorry.” My hand goes to my mouth.

He swings an arm around my shoulder and squeezes me to his side.

“No need for feel bad,” he says. “I know your heart.” He lets go and opens the door. “You get good film for da TV?”

And that’s it. I’m forgiven.

234

I shrug and nod. “I think so.” We walk inside.

I see Dad and Amazon across the room, talking. He touches her a lot, and he laughs a little too loud when she says something. I can’t imagine her saying anything funny ever. My eyes narrow. How dare he tell me all those things about Mom when he flirts with every woman who looks at him.

The crew begins to pack up. Mr. Roz gets to work prepping for the morning, and I start helping him. It’s the least I can do.

“Sheridan,” Dad says from across the room. “Go home, okay? You’ve got school in the morning.”

And now look at him, being all Dad-like while he hits on his new boss. Nice.

I pat Mr. Roz on the back. “Sorry.”

“No sorry. The beauty need her beauty sleep.”

“Good night, Sheridan.” Amazon waves. Now
she’s
trying to suck up to me?

I lift a hand. “Bye.”

As I walk out of the bakery, into the cool night, I pass the spot near the door where Jack and I kissed. I touch my lips.

Where did he learn how to do that? It was remarkable. It occurs to me that through that entire moment, I didn’t worry once that I was doing it wrong. That was what I always imagined the perfect kiss would be. I just never thought it would be with Jack.

I step across the alley toward home, and a lightbulb clicks 235

on inside of my head. Maybe it’s not such a bad kisser after all; maybe I’ve just been attached to the wrong lips.

The next day, Jack comes up to my locker and grimaces.

“Let me just talk first. You wanna forget that whole thing last night, that’s fine.”

I peer up at him. “Do
you
want to forget it?”

He smiles. “No.”

I lock my eyes with his, hoping he can read my mind, and the corners of my mouth curl up ever so slightly.

I’m not quite sure what to say or how to say it. All I know is that I would like to kiss him again. But then Ethan walks up beside me in the hall, in all his godlike glory.

Boyfriend, Sheridan. You have a boyfriend.

“Hey.” He captures me in his sweet smile and in his arms like I am the only girl in the whole world. I look at him, all the while watching Jack out of the corner of my eye. Smoke is practically coming out of his ears.

“Hi,” I say.

“You ready for the French test?” Ethan asks, and kisses me. Like yesterday with Haley never even happened.

“Yeah.” I glance sideways at Jack, then look back to Ethan. “You?”

“Yeah, right. Last minute guy, remember?”

At the end of the day, Jack and I walk to art together, slow and quiet. I still think Ethan is handsome. I still want to 236

feel his arm around me between classes. But now there’s this huge thing that’s happened, something that has rocked me down to my bones. And I think Jack knows it.

We get to class just as the bell rings. Mrs. Ely sticks her head out of the door. “Are you two joining us?” she asks. Before I can answer, Ethan swoops in from behind and grabs me around the waist. He swings me around and plants a big kiss on my mouth. Between Jack’s glare and Mrs. Ely staring hard at this blatant PDA, I turn a million shades of red.

“That’s enough.” She points to Ethan. “You. Get to class.”

He answers with his best bad-boy smile before he walks off backward, waving to me, down the hall. That smile usually makes me melt. But at the moment, I’m more embarrassed than melty.

Mrs. Ely eyes me as I walk to my chair and sit down next to Jack, who shakes his head and looks to the front of the classroom.

I can’t win.

At the end of class, Mrs. E asks me to stick around. She waits until everyone else has left the room, then sits down at her desk. I hope Jack’s waiting in the hall for me. We’re still going to the hospital. I think.

“Have you finished the project?” she asks.

“Yes!” I say with enthusiasm. It’s not even due until tomorrow. “It’s right here.” I reach into my bag and give it to her. She takes it and flips through the pages, lingering on one or two.

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“Hmm.” She closes the sketchbook and leans back.

“Have you given any thought to the art camp?”

Oh, come on.

“You know, I have so much going on. You know about my dad’s show. And my grandmother. It’s just been a lot. I’m not sure I’ll have time this summer.”

“Yes, I know you are busy. I’ll give you that. But the ap-plication isn’t due until the end of May. I’ll be happy to help you with it if you like.”

I lift my shoulders to my ears. “I don’t know.”

She huffs and stares at me. “You know something? I know you are the Cake Girl or whatever it is they call you.

But you can also draw. These are incredible.”

I don’t know why she’s getting all bent out of shape. I finished the project; I thought that’s what she wanted.

“I don’t usually nag my students, Sheridan. But you seem to think that the only place you can use your skills is on a cake. Your cakes are remarkable—there’s no doubt about that. But I wish you were more willing to step outside of your comfort zone.”

She flips the book open to the grape hyacinths.

“I see more than ability in this drawing. I see passion. I swear only someone who loves what they are doing can create something like this.”

I cross my arms, not sure what she wants me to say.

“Do you? Do you love it?” She’s asking me this with her eyes all turned up and big, like a stray puppy. “It’s okay to 238

love drawing, you know,
and
love cakes. You can do both you know.” I am silent. She stands up and sighs. “You don’t have to level with me, but at least be honest with yourself.”

I shake my head. “I’ve really got to go. I’ll think about it, okay? The camp, I mean.”

She hands me the sketchbook. “You know, a true gift isn’t something you do because it pleases other people. It’s something you
must
do because it fills
you
up inside.”

“All right.” I hoist my bag onto my shoulder. “Have a good night.”

“You, too,” she says to my back.

I practically run from the classroom, scanning the hallway, looking for Jack. He’s down by our lockers, waiting.

“Art camp again?” He seems to have gotten over Ethan and that embarrassing kiss. I’m glad. I need my friend right now.

“She doesn’t know when to give up.”

“You gotta hand it to her; she has good taste.”

“Whatever.”

We walk out to the ancient Corolla that belonged to Jack’s dad back in the days of the dinosaurs. It’s rickety and scares people because it’s so loud, but I’m used to it.

There’s another chem lab due tomorrow, too, so I’ve brought the book with me.

“You want to work as we drive?” I ask.

“Look at you, not waiting until the last minute.” Ah.

A dig at Ethan. He pulls out of the parking lot and winds 239

through town toward the road to Grand Rapids.

I rattle off questions from the textbook, though I barely pay attention to my own words. I think of Ethan kissing me in the hallway like that and bristle. In front of my teacher.

In front of Jack. That was not cool. I wonder if I even have the guts to talk to him about it later, when we meet at the harbor.