Curse of the Wickeds (The Cinderella Society, Episode 2) (5 page)

The car ride was over before either of us could think of something to fill the dead air, and within seconds, we were on my porch. I would’ve gladly walked myself to the door to avoid the humiliation of being let down easy.

“Sorry about The Grind.” Ryan stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t really want to sit with them.”

Because he was embarrassed by me. “No problem.” I put on my cheerleader face. “Thanks for dinner and the movie. It was fun.”

“I had a good time too,” he said. I wondered if his pants would catch fire from the lie. “Maybe I’ll call you?”

Was he asking permission or deciding if that was really going to happen? “Sure. I’ll see you around.”

Ryan looked like he was going to be sick. He nodded. “Yeah, around.” He looked into my eyes—the first time we’d made eye contact since The Grind—then flicked a glance to my lips. The promise of another kiss hung in the air and I thought maybe, just maybe, everything might be okay. Then he looked at his shoes, and the flicker went out. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and stepped back to watch me walk into the house.

I gave him a cheery wave and closed the door. I turned the lock, the resounding click of the dead bolt shattering my reserve. The tears let loose and I ran upstairs, ignoring Mom’s voice from the kitchen. A glutton for punishment, I hid in the shadows of my dark room and watched out the window.

Ryan walked slowly around his car and got in. The engine roared to life. He gave one last look at my front door, shook his head, and drove away.

I grabbed a box of tissues and burrowed under the covers as a torrent of tears streamed down my face.

It was official. I was the girl you could only like in private.

Chapter Eight

GlitterGirl: how did it go tonight???

WillCheer4Food: dinner, great. movie, fun. first kiss, yum.

GlitterGirl: FIRST KISS?!?!?!!!!

WillCheer4Food: running into Wickeds at The Grind, disaster. no goodnight kiss.

Which wasn’t technically true, because he
had
kissed my cheek. But compared to the blissful lip-lock after the movie, it wasn’t even on the same scoreboard. Sarah Jane would understand the difference.

GlitterGirl: (((Jess)))

WillCheer4Food: are you embarrassed to be seen with me?

GlitterGirl: i’m sure it’s—

GlitterGirl: what? of course not!!

I gave SJ the Tina rundown. She made all the right comforting noises (emoticons, whatever), but it didn’t make me feel any better. Neither had spilling the whole thing to Mom over a bowl of Chunky Monkey.
 

No matter how many people told me it wasn’t me, I knew better.

It was Dan Carter all over again. I’d let myself get sucked into the fairy tale with him too. But in my defense, what was I supposed to think when Dan flirted with me all summer? It’s not like he ever said, “Oh, and by the way? If you can’t hang with the Chosen Few come September, I’m ditching you like last year’s soccer cleats.”

I mean, when the big brush-off happens once, you can chalk it up to the guy being a loser. Which I did. In red Sharpie across his yearbook picture.

But here I was—new town, new guy—and it was like Dan: The Sequel. Ryan’s attentiveness on our date snuffed out by the cold shoulder I’d gotten when we’d crossed paths with the evil ones. When would I ever learn? I might as well have
gullible
tattooed on my forehead.

No Wicked chatter.

I braced myself, determined not to give in to the pity party I could feel brewing. I’d been to that party enough to know that no one cool ever crashes it.

I wrapped up with SJ, not wanting to prolong my misery, and was about to shut down when another IM knocked the wind out of me.

First&Goal: jess?

I stared at the screen. I’d taken my Internet safety class like a good little doobie and knew better than to respond to an unknown IM. But could it be . . . ?

First&Goal: it’s ryan

How did he get my screen name? More to the point, why in the heck was he IMing me at almost midnight? Like he hadn’t already done enough damage to my fragile ego? Or was this Lexy and Morgan having a little fun at my expense?

WillCheer4Food: what did you eat tonight?

First&Goal: spinach dip (hot IS better), chicken jambalaya and too much popcorn

Yep. Definitely Ryan.

First&Goal: i hope it’s okay to IM u… cass gave me your screen name... do u mind?

WillCheer4Food: that depends. are you IMing to break my heart a second time?

I know. I deleted that before I hit Send. As if I’d let on I was fool enough to think the spark was real.

WillCheer4Food: no problem. what’s up?

First&Goal: i wanted to say i’m sorry

WillCheer4Food: for?

First&Goal: how things ended

First&Goal: nick and i… there’s a lot of friction there

First&Goal: it has nothing to do with u

WillCheer4Food: np

First&Goal: can i make it up to u?

I stared at the screen again, afraid to let myself go there.
Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, and I’ll put your butt in a sling.

Whoa. That didn’t even sound like
my
Wicked chatter. Maybe my heart was finally rebelling against the male species.

WillCheer4Food: no need, but thanks. have a good night!

First&Goal: WAIT

First&Goal: okay, you’re mad... i don’t blame u... i acted like an idiot

First&Goal: let me show u i’m not a jerk

First&Goal: at least not all the time

WillCheer4Food: you’re not a jerk. and you don’t have to prove anything. i’m used to not fitting in

First&Goal: who don’t u fit in with?
 

WillCheer4Food: everyone at the round table? most of the kids in Mt. Sterling? your sister? take your pick

First&Goal: u fit with me

It caught me right square in the heart.

First&Goal: jess?

I couldn’t give in. The Cindys had my head in fairy-tale mode already. I couldn’t afford to let it spill over into my real life. I’d been burned enough to know better. I wasn’t one of the fortunate few destined to have it all.

First&Goal: i have to work early but i don’t want this to be over before it even gets started

First&Goal: i want another chance

First&Goal: i’m working a double shift tomorrow, but how about mini golf and really bad hot dogs Thu night? around 7?

First&Goal: i felt something with u, Jess

First&Goal: something I want to feel again

Was I delusional to give it another shot? To open myself up again, only to be picked off by a Wicked sniper or nervy girl ready to step in at the first sign of weakness?

First&Goal: are u going to make me beg?

WillCheer4Food: no

I hadn’t planned to do it. Didn’t even realize I had until I’d typed the word. But deep down I knew I couldn’t live with the what-ifs.

First&Goal: no u won’t go out with me or no u won’t make me beg?

First&Goal: because i’m not above begging

First&Goal: groveling is good for the soul

WillCheer4Food: *eg* no, you don’t have to beg. but you don’t have to prove anything either. if it works, it works. if it doesn’t, no big.

First&Goal: deal... but jess?

WillCheer4Food: yeah?

First&Goal: i can’t stop thinking about u… or that kiss in the parking lot

First&Goal: see u thursday, beautiful

—
First&Goal has signed off
—

Chapter Nine

 
“You have more clothes than Taylor Swift.”

I stood next to Sarah Jane, staring at the massive clothing dump otherwise known as my closet. “Hers are way cooler, though.”

“Your budgets are a little different.”

SJ dropped her pink ribbon tote bag next to my desk and returned her gaze to my overgrown wardrobe. I readjusted the hanger of a super cute denim dress I’d gotten on clearance at The Gap in Kansas City. It still had the tags on it because we’d moved to a too-cool-for-The-Gap Seattle suburb right after that.

“Where do we start?” I asked.

“We need a plan.” SJ surveyed the stuffed mess of my closet from left to right. “You’ve got so much packed in here, we might be able to do the rest of your makeover shopping at Closet ala Parker.”

I doubted that. There was a ton in my closet, but most of it was from cities with totally different fashion laws.

At this point, I was game for whatever SJ recommended. She was the guru. I snapped open a big black trash bag with a flick of my wrists. “What should I get rid of?”

“That’s your call. Go with your signature style and see what works.”

I wasn’t sure how much I had that would fit with my
fun-feminine-sporty
signature style. Actually, I wasn’t sure what would fit, period.

We started on that note, and Sarah Jane helped me pull out a bunch of stuff I probably couldn’t wear because of sizing. We filled the first bag with castoffs for donation in ten minutes flat. Being able to see the floor of my closet gave me a boost of adrenaline. Who knew there was carpet in there?

I stepped back to admire our handiwork as SJ folded the last piece and set it in the top of the bag.

I dragged the first bag over near the door as Sarah Jane made four signs on notebook paper. She laid each piece of paper out so they made a giant square on the floor. Then she drew a grid on another sheet.

“This is the Closet Clearing Grid,” she explained. “Each of the four squares matches a pile on the floor. It breaks everything you own down into four groups based on whether you love it or don’t and whether it’s flattering or not.”

She pointed to each square on my bedroom floor. “In the top right, you’ve got your
Keeps
. Those are clothes you love and are really flattering on you. In the top left, you’ve got your
Tweaks
: things you don’t love but look really good on you.”

I had a sneaking suspicion my top row was going to be poorly represented in The Great Grid Caper.

“In the bottom right, you’ve got your
Alters
. Stuff you love but isn’t super flattering. The bottom left is your
Donates
: anything you don’t love and isn’t flattering. Those automatically get bagged.”

Being the organizing freak that I am—at least when it’s for volunteer projects (clearly not in my closet)—I was all about the grid.

We started slowly with Sarah Jane feeding me one item at a time from my closet. In some cases, it was easy to tell where it belonged. But for a lot of it, I wanted SJ’s opinion about the flattering part. Especially after being overshadowed by Boob Girl on my big date. Confidence was not my friend today.

With the left side of my walk-in closet cleared out, we created a little staging area. I grabbed the full-length mirror off my bathroom door and propped it against the wall while SJ set my questionables on the empty closet shelves to try on. She resumed her post on my bed and waited.

I tried on each outfit in my closet and came out to show Sarah Jane. She helped me figure out which outfits could be saved with some alterations or cute accessories. The piles on my floor continued to grow.

But the more I tried on, the more I thought about my signature style and my date with Ryan.
Fun-feminine-sporty
felt like me, but it couldn’t compete with the kind of girl Ryan was used to. It wasn’t nearly flashy enough for Mt. Sterling’s elite.

“What do you think about
fun-flattering-sporty
for my signature style?” I called to Sarah Jane while I tried on a shorts outfit I could already tell was destined for the Donate pile.

“What do you think about it?” she called back.

Typical Sarah Jane.

I came out to model the outfit, and we both agreed to put the ensemble in the Donate pile. Even the shoes.

“I like
feminine
,” I said, sitting down at the foot of my bed for a second to ponder my style tweaking. “But
flattering
is kind of the same. It’s just a little more focused on enhancing my figure, right? Instead of just feminine in general?”

“It could be,” Sarah Jane said slowly. “But why the change? I thought you liked your signature style.”

So I can compete with girls like Fake Blondie and Boob Girl.
“Just thinking about the kinds of things that make me feel confident.”

Which was true. Sort of.

Sarah Jane didn’t look convinced, but signature style was a personal thing so she let it go. “If it really feels right to you,” she said, “then go with your instincts.”