Unexpected (15 page)

It was sweet.

It was
really
sweet.

And I was shamelessly happy in that moment. So much so that I think I melted, right then and there, in the junction between Junior Hall and Senior Hall
. I did. I melted into a big pile of mush.

*~*~*

“This weekend,” Jamie said as her eyes darted between Willow and I. “We are shopping. No arguing!”

Willow
made an apologetic face. “I don’t know…I don’t think I’m going to go. To the dance, I mean.”

“I said no a
rguing,” Jamie pointed out. “But why wouldn’t you go to the dance? You have to go to the dance. Everyone goes to the dance. Even people without dates go to the dance. They go with other people that don’t have dates. But you have a date. Don’t you?”

Willow
ignored her, acting as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “I’ll go with to
look
at dresses, though. But I really don’t want to go to the dance.”

“Is
Grant going with someone else?” I wondered.

She shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I don’t know. I told him he should ask someone else.”

“Wait,” I said, “he asked you and you turned him down?”

I got a noncommittal shrug in response.

“But you two have always gone to these kinds of things together,” Jamie pointed out.

“
I just don’t want to go with Grant.”

“So…ask someone else?” This was my suggestion.

She ignored it by taking a bite out of her apple.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Jamie demanded. She cast an annoyed glance at Willow’s lunch.

Willow
shrugged. “Yeah. I’m not really hungry and I’m,” her stomach rumbled loudly, “on a—”

“Diet,” Jamie wryly finished for her. “A diet that you do not need to be on. Do we need to do something about this? Have an intervention or something?” She looked at me. “Because
if this keeps up, I think we need to have an intervention.”

“She’s right,
Willow. You’re perfect. Why the sudden need to diet?”

“Okay,” she said, sounding annoyed. “Diet is the wrong word. I just really meant I’m not hungry.”

Her stomach rumbled again, refuting her.

She tried again. “Actually, I forgot my purse at home. I only had some change in my locker.” She held up her apple. “This is what one gets with the change in one’s locker.”

Jamie and I shared a glance. Willow caught it and was clearly not pleased. Something wasn’t adding up. I just didn’t get it. Jamie obviously didn’t either.

She was on a diet?

She simply wasn’t hungry?

She forgo
t her purse?

Which one was it?

Or was none of it true?

Because I could’ve
sworn
she carried her purse in with her this morning. And she’d been saying she was on a diet for…I couldn’t recall exactly. But it seemed like a really long time. Yet she’d devoured as many cookies as I had at Jamie’s last week. And the lava cake. All of it. Granted, people cheated on diets all the time. So maybe it didn’t mean anything.

“What’s going on with you?” Jamie asked quietly. She was leaning forward across the table. Her concern was evident.

“Nothing!” Willow said. Her tone was drenched in irritation. “Nothing. Okay?”

I didn’t think it was okay and I was pretty sure Jamie didn’t either.

“I have five dollars in my pocket,” I offered. “If you forgot your purse, you can borrow it. You still have time to go grab something.”

Our cafeteria had a regular lunch line
where students punched in an identification number to their prepaid accounts. None of us ate from the lunch line because none of us liked school lunches. We either brought our lunches from home or we opted for the small counter dubbed the Snack Shack. It had a variety of items. Everything from sandwiches to apples to cookies.

She shook her head. “No. I’m fine. But thanks.”

“What are we talking about girls?” Krista asked as she took the seat next to Willow.

“The winter dance,” Jamie said. She pulled her eyes from
Willow and forced a smile for Krista. Willow, I could tell, was relieved at the subject change.

“Ohhh! What about it?” Krista asked. She pulled a
clear sandwich container out of her lunch bag. I could see the outline of a croissant inside.

“Dresses,” I said. “We were talking about shopping for dresses. This Saturday.”

“Count me in,” she said. “We should make a day out of it! Lunch. Shopping. Maybe a movie after?”

“Sure,” Jamie and I said in unison.

We looked to Willow as Krista set her croissant free.

“Yeah, maybe,”
Willow said noncommittally. “I mean, I’ll go shopping with you guys for sure. I’m not sure about the rest of it though. We’ll see.”

“Why not lunch?” Jamie rolled her eyes. “What
? You don’t plan on eating at all on Saturday?”

Willow
scowled at her. “That’s not it. I just…might not be able to. I might have to babysit or something.”

Why did that sound like a forced, manufactured excuse?

Jamie gave Krista a pointed look. “Willow’s not going to the winter dance.”

Krista froze in place
and stared at Willow. It took her several long seconds to recover from that statement.

“Yes,” she said. “You are. You have to go. Everyone goes.”

Jamie gave Willow an
I-told-you-so
smile.

“Yuck,” Krista whined
. She distracted us from the current situation as she tossed her chicken salad sandwich aside. The container slid halfway to my side of the table. “She put spinach on it. Why does she do that? She knows I hate spinach. What’s wrong with lettuce? Just plain old lettuce?”

“So pick it off,”
Willow suggested.

Krista shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s ruined.
I swear the chicken salad just sucks up the taste of the spinach. And little chunks of it get stuck.” She shuddered and I thought she was crazy, but whatever. She pulled out her yogurt and a banana.

“Well,”
Willow said, “if you really don’t want it. I’ll take it.”

“But it has
spinach
,” Krista pointed out with a grimace. When Willow didn’t jump on the I-hate-spinach bandwagon, Krista relented. “If you want it, by all means take this nastiness of my hands.”

“It’s silly to waste it,”
Willow told her. I slid the container back to her side of the table. She opened it up and took the untouched sandwich out. “Besides I happen to like spinach,” she said diplomatically. “It’s good for you.”

Jamie and I shared a confused glance. I was sure she was wondering about the sandwich too. Was
Willow just eating it to prove a point? But I had offered her money. She had plenty of time to go grab something quick from the Snack Shack…I said she could pay me back.

She had balked at the suggestion.

And with that, I started to think that maybe I knew exactly what was up with my friend.

11

“Britta.”

I hated when he said my name like that. It made it clear that he was annoyed with me. And I was annoyed with him
, too.
For
being annoyed with me. I sat on the edge of my bed. My muscles were stiff with tension. I clenched my phone in one hand and gripped the edge of my pillow with the other.

I hadn’t been home from school for more than ten minutes when he called. I debated not answering. But I’d told my mom that I would. And I didn’t want her to have to deal with calls to the house, tattling on me if I didn’t.

“It’s not my fault you wait until the last minute to plan things. Do you just expect me to sit around? Waiting for you to call? Waiting for you to make time for me?” I asked. My tone was sassy, bordering on condescending. I just didn’t care. I never talked to my mom this way. But my dad? I felt I was justified.

“Britta,” he said again. “I told you we would do something this weekend.”

“In a text. Without
any
details. And now it’s Friday night and I’m just supposed to drop what I’m doing for you? Or was I just supposed to keep my schedule wide open? Just in case you decided to follow through? No. I don’t think so.”

I expected him to chastise me for me tone. He didn’t. And
that
annoyed me to. I was sure I knew what he was thinking:
Pick your battles, Mitchell. Take a deep breath and pick your battles.

What he said, with a resigned sigh, was, “
Let’s get one thing clear. First off, I have never canceled on you. It may take some finagling to get our schedules to match up but once we’ve made plans, I have always followed through.” He paused, either waiting for me to agree or just waiting for his words to settle in. Either way, I didn’t respond so he continued. “Furthermore, I made reservations for tonight. At Luca’s. They were pretty booked up this weekend. I believe they were hosting an after Christmas party. But I was able to get a table for two at seven.”

I loved Luca’s. Of course he knew it. I softened just a bit.
Luca’s was easily the nicest restaurant in town. When I was younger—much younger—it was always so exciting when my parents let me tag along. I’d always felt so grown up. I always ordered the cheese ravioli. Dad always ordered cannolis for dessert.

“I should’ve sent a more detailed text. Or I should’ve called. You’re right. I just, well, I got busy. With work,” he hurried to add. “I’ve been real busy with work this week.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing he probably knew me well enough to realize I was doing it. I fought against the urge to ask if getting busy with work was code for getting busy with his newest secretary.

Gah
! I did not want my mind to go there. But it did. And now it was all tangled up in a net of disgusting thoughts I did not want to be thinking. And memories that I did not want to be remembering.
Ick
! Dad and Dori and just…
Ick
. I squinched my eyes shut tight, hoping to squeeze the visual right out of my head. This! This right here was why I did not want to know about, think about or hear about my parents dating!

I blew out a breath
as I tried to shove the nauseated feeling away. I was suddenly lightheaded. My hands had started shaking because I’d accidentally remembered something I’d tried so desperately to forget. Despite that, I verbally trudged ahead.

“I’m sorry. But I have plans. I…” I hesitated, not wanting to part with the information. Because it was none of his business. But I did anyway
because I realized he probably wasn’t going to let me off the phone. Not without an actual reason for not being able to meet with him. “I have a date.”

There was silence for a few beats. “With
Corey? Are you two back together?”

Had I told him we’d broken up? I couldn’t remember.
Apparently I had. I’d been a head case for weeks. I cringed, wondering just how much I had blabbed in my broken hearted haze.

“No. Not with
Corey,” I said. I offered him nothing more.

“With
whom then?” he asked.

“I’ve got to go,” I told him.

“Who are you going out with?” he demanded.

“Do you care? Or are you just annoyed that he’s interfering with your last-minute plans for tonight?” I shot at him.

“Of course I care. And the plans weren’t last minute. I sent—”

“A
text
, I know. Hey!” I said with oodles of fake cheer. “Here’s an idea! Why don’t you call your floozy? I bet she’d love to go to Luca’s!”

For the first time, his voice became hard and strained. “The woman I am dating is not a floozy. You watch your mouth.”

My stomach twisted up tight.
This
was the battle he was choosing? Whoever his latest bimbo was—and I hadn’t known for sure there was one, I was simply guessing—he was standing up for her. He’d been letting my attitude slide. He hadn’t called me out on it when I’d been mouthy with him. But say a word against his bimbo? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream or cry.