First Date (7 page)

“Newton?” Bryn tipped her head to one side.

“You know,” Emma said. “Like Sir Isaac Newton.”

Bryn laughed. “Oh, yeah. All I could think of was
Fig
Newton.”

“Maybe you should call him Fig,” Devon suggested as she wrote down the code names. The other girls laughed.

“This is fun.” Abby pointed at Bryn. “What are you calling Jason?”

“How about JT?”

“I guess that works,” Devon said.

“But what’s the
T
for?” Cassidy asked.

Bryn shrugged. “I don’t know. It just sounded good. Maybe it’s for Terrific.” She poked Cassidy. “You better think of something for Lane before he becomes Lover Boy.”

“Larry,” Cassidy proclaimed.

“Larry?” Devon studied her. “That’s kind of blah, don’t you think?”

“Fine. Call him Larry the Tomato then.”

“Larry the Tomato?” Devon was confused.

“You know, from VeggieTales,” Cassidy told her.

“No, that was Larry the Cucumber,” Abby corrected. “I know because I used to be addicted to those cartoons.”

“Are you sure?” Cassidy looked skeptical. “I thought it was Larry the Tomato.”

“How about just plain Larry,” Devon said as she filled in the name and turned the page. “Now we need to go over our assignments so everyone is clear. I’ve rearranged a little, so listen closely.” Devon studied her book, trying to remember the code names they’d just assigned to the guys. “Okay . . . Ecstasy is working on Larry for Candy.” She paused to look at her friends, who looked slightly confused. “Do you get it or not?”

“Emma is working on Lane for Cassidy,” Abby proclaimed.

They all nodded, agreeing that was correct.

“Go on,” Bryn told Devon. “This is fun. Kind of like a game.”

“It is a game,” Devon reminded her. “Dating Games. Remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell us the rest,” Abby urged.

“Okay . . . Babe is working on Killer for Angel.”

Cassidy actually laughed now. “This sounds like the description of some weird movie.”

“As long as we don’t flop at the box office, who cares?” Bryn said. “I’m working on Kent for Abby. But I’m also working on Hunk for Desiree, right?”

“Not anymore,” Devon told her.

Bryn frowned. “Just because of—”

“No,” Devon said quickly. “I’d already reassigned Harris—I mean Hunk—to, uh, Candy.”

“Why?” Bryn looked disappointed.

“Because Cassidy didn’t have an assignment. It seems only fair that we each have one guy to work on.”

“I already started on Harris.” Bryn stuck out her lower lip.

“Thanks,” Cassidy told her. “I appreciate the help. But I’ll take it from there.”

Devon felt relieved—as well as surprised that Cassidy was playing along so well. She’d expected more heel-dragging.

“I mean, it’s only fair. Everyone should do their share,” Cassidy said.

“That’s right,” Devon told her. “And Angel is working on JT for Babe.”

“We’re supposed to remember all that?” Emma asked.

“I’ll email you a list tonight,” she said. “You can print it out and delete it.”

“Like real spies,” Emma said.

“Except that you can never fully delete anything from the internet,” Abby pointed out.

“Which is precisely why we’re using code names,” Devon reminded them. She wrote something at the top of the page. “I’ll call this the Hit List.”

They laughed, and then the bell rang and they set off for their various classes. With a feeling of accomplishment, Devon slipped the notebook into her bag. By the end of the day, she’d sent the revised list as an email to the other members of the DG.

The Hit List

• Desiree works on Newton for Ecstasy
  
• Babe works on Killer for Angel
  
• Ecstasy works on Larry for Candy
  
• Candy works on Hunk for Desiree
  
• Angel works on JT for Babe
  

Devon couldn’t help but laugh as she reread this strange message later that night. It really sounded pretty ridiculous. Still, she hoped it would provide some much needed clarity for everyone—especially Bryn. Devon sighed and looked at her stack of homework. Now if she could just come up with as much creative energy for her history essay.

I
don’t think this is working,” Cassidy told the DG on Friday. Just like the previous week, they were meeting at Costello’s for coffee after school, although this time they were supposed to give their weekly progress reports. With only two weeks until homecoming, Cassidy was getting worried. So far this week had felt like a wash to her.

“How can you say that?” Bryn asked her. “I’ve made serious progress on my project.” She grinned at Abby. “This afternoon, Kent told me that he’s ‘always admired you.’”

“Admired me?” Abby’s dark eyes grew worried.

“Yeah. That’s what he said. What? Are you complaining?”

“No . . . I mean, that’s fine and good,” Abby conceded. “But does he think I’m hot?”

Bryn laughed. “Do you want me to ask him
that
?”

“No, of course not.” Abby firmly shook her head.

Bryn held up her phone. “I’m willing to call him and—”

“All right!” Devon pounded her fist on the table, causing
Cassidy’s coffee to nearly topple. “Can this meeting come to order?”

“Bet you bring your gavel next time,” Abby teased Devon.

“Yeah.” Bryn frowned. “I thought we were supposed to have fun with this.”

“We are. But you guys are getting sidetracked.”

“I thought we were supposed to report,” Bryn defended herself. “That’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah.” Devon held up her notebook. “But in an orderly fashion. And slow down so Cassidy can take notes.” She handed the notebook to Cassidy.

“Why do we need to take notes?” Cassidy dug out a pen from her bag, then flipped through the pages.

“This is a club, isn’t it?” Devon pointed out.

“I thought it was a game,” Bryn said.

“Whatever.” Devon shook her head. “Let’s all report. One at a time. Then we’ll make our next plan.”

“Okay, since I began, is it all right if I continue?” Cassidy asked.

“Yes.” Devon nodded eagerly. “Proceed.”

Some of them giggled, but Cassidy
proceeded
. She admitted that she’d gotten nowhere with Harris. Then she made note of it, using their secret names.

“But you’re supposed to be working on Harris for me,” Devon reminded her with a disappointed expression. “You promised.”

“I know that,” Cassidy told her. “I’m trying. But I’ve barely been able to have a conversation with him, and even then he acted like I was invisible, and—”

“See.” Bryn held up her forefinger with a smug look. “That’s exactly why you should’ve left Hunk to me.”

“Harris,”
Devon checked her. “Code names are for texting, email, or when others might be listening. Remember?”

“Whatever.” Bryn pointed at Cassidy now. “Maybe the problem with you is your appearance, Cass.”

“What happened to that makeover you were supposed to give her?” Devon demanded.

“Scheduling difficulties,” Bryn explained. “First Abby and I were busy. Then on the one night we could do it, Cassidy bailed on us. Although we did give her some tips. She was supposed to work on some things.” She grimly shook her head. “Although that obviously hasn’t happened.”

Cassidy pressed her lips together, trying not to show how much this hurt. Sure, it was easy for Bryn—Miss Perfect—to pick on her looks. But did Cassidy have to take it?

“Cassidy is pretty enough,” Emma argued. “She just hides it too well. Kinda like I used to.”

“Precisely why she needs that makeover,” Bryn stated.

“But she keeps balking,” Abby told the others.

“Fine,” Cassidy snapped. “Give me a makeover. You’ve been yammering about it all week. Can I help it if the timing was wrong?”

Bryn leaned forward, offering a pretty smile. “We’ll do it this weekend, Cass. Abby and I already have some good ideas and—”

“Great.” Cassidy blinked to keep tears from coming. “I can hardly wait.” She tried to look like she was focused on the notebook, but she wished this meeting was over.

“It’ll be fun, Cass,” Emma said gently. “You’ll see. If it makes you feel any better, I felt just the same way. Now I couldn’t be happier for the way Devon and Bryn helped me. You’ll be glad too.”

Abby reached over and fingered Cassidy’s long, dark brown hair. “Nothing wrong with this. I mean, nothing a good trim and the right shampoo and conditioner can’t help. Believe me, with hair like mine, I understand the importance of good hair products. And then you need to learn how to blow dry it better—you know, to give it more body.”

“But your clothes.” Bryn shook her head. “Grunge went out when we were in preschool.”

“Thanks.” Cassidy tightened her grip on the pen. “What if I’m not into fashion?”

“We can see that,” Bryn told her. “I’m not saying you have to go out and buy a bunch of new clothes. I’m just saying we can do something more. Something to make you look like you
care
about yourself.” She laughed lightly. “Because if you don’t care for yourself, who will care about you? Certainly not Lane.”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Emma said carefully, “but she’s right. I haven’t been making any progress with Lane. He sees you as a nice girl. Not girlfriend material.”

“He actually said that?” Cassidy challenged. What about that time their eyes met? Had she imagined his interest?

“Not in those words. But I could tell that’s what he meant.”

Cassidy sighed. Emma was probably right. “What about the speech Mr. Worthington gave the guys? Maybe Lane just wants to honor that. Maybe Harris does too.”

“I got the inside scoop on that too,” Bryn told them. Suddenly the girls were all ears. “Kent told me.”

Abby frowned. “So you’ve got Kent confiding in you now? Don’t forget he’s mine, Bryn.”

“Hey, we were just talking as friends. Can I help it if he opened up?”

“Never mind,” Devon told them both. “Tell us what he said.”

“Well, it sounds like Emma’s theory is right. Mr. Worthington did give the guys a speech. It actually sounds kind of sweet. Worthington warns them that although a lot of girls make purity pledges, it’s up to guys to respect this.”

Cassidy felt a small surge of relief. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah.” Bryn nodded. “Except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” Abby asked.

“The problem is that Worthington challenges the guys. He actually throws down a
real
gauntlet after his talk.”

“Huh?” Devon was confused. “He throws down a glove?”

“That’s what Lane said.” Bryn raised her hand to demonstrate. “He said Worthington smacks it down on the stage, and then he challenges them.”

“With what?”

“He challenges them to see how long they can abstain from girls and dating.”

“I knew it.” Emma nodded triumphantly.

“And they fall for it?” Devon looked stunned. “I mean, these are guys, right? Hot-blooded teenage guys.”

“It sounds like Worthington makes it seem like a sport, like only the toughest guys can win at this game. He’s like, ‘
If you’re a real man, you can do this.
’” Bryn laughed. “But according to Lane, it never lasts too long.”

“Will it last through homecoming?” Devon asked.

“I’m not sure.” Bryn’s mouth twisted to one side. “But I think if we want dates for that dance, we’re all going to have to turn up the heat. ASAP.”

“Good information gathering,” Devon told her.

“Maybe this is the writing on the wall,” Cassidy said in defeat. “I mean, do we really want to go against Worthington?”

The group got quiet now, like they were actually considering her words. Oddly enough, she hoped they didn’t agree with her. Despite her protests and hurt feelings, she was actually starting to long for a makeover. Who didn’t want a fresh start sometimes?

“Don’t look at it like that,” Devon finally said. “After all, the school promotes homecoming and the dance. Surely they expect us to have dates, don’t they?”

“I remember hearing how a lot of kids went stag to the homecoming dance last year,” Emma told her. “Girls with girls. Guys with guys.”

“You’re kidding.” Devon grimaced.

“That’s true,” Bryn conceded.

Abby giggled. “Bryn and I went together last year.”

“I never knew why it was like that. But a lot of couples seemed to pair off at the dance,” Bryn explained. “Maybe that’s when the guys kissed Worthington’s challenge good-bye.”

Emma shrugged. “Worst case scenario, we could go in a group.”

“Like in middle school?” Bryn shook her head. “No way.”

“You got that right,” Devon declared. “We are so
not
going to the dance as a group.”

“Maybe we won’t be going at all.” Cassidy sighed.

“No. You’re wrong. We are all going to get dates.” Devon pointed at the notebook. “But we might need a better battle plan.”

“I’m in.” Bryn nodded firmly. “Even if this war is against General Worthington himself, I plan to fight it.”

Cassidy tried to feign enthusiasm as she made notes while the girls plotted and planned, strategizing ways to drop subtle
hints through texting and Facebook throughout the weekend. The plan was that the intensity of the battle would heat up as the school week started. By midweek the hints would grow increasingly less subtle. The goal was to nail dates before the following weekend.

“That’s really cutting it close,” Devon declared.

“I’ll say.” Bryn frowned. “I wanted to go dress shopping this weekend.”

“So did I,” Abby told her.

“No reason we can’t shop for dresses,” Devon said as she reached for the notebook.

“But what if we don’t get asked?” Cassidy queried.

“We’ll get asked,” Devon assured her.

“We can always save our receipts,” Emma said quietly. “Just in case.”

“Well, that sounds overwhelmingly confident,” Bryn teased.

“Just being realistic.” Emma twisted her coffee cup in her hands. “Besides, some of us are on tighter budgets than others. No way am I wasting money on a dress, even an inexpensive one, that I’m not going to wear at least once.”

“I’m with you on that,” Cassidy told her.

“Are you two in the club or not?” Devon demanded.

Emma and Cassidy both nodded.

“Then let’s hear a little more optimism.”

“That’s right.” Bryn pointed at Cassidy now. “And I expect you to come to my house tomorrow afternoon for your makeover.”

“When are we going dress shopping?” Abby asked.

After a couple minutes of going over their schedules, it was finally agreed that Cassidy’s makeover would be switched to the morning, and the five girls would go dress shopping in
the afternoon. But as Cassidy was going home, she still had her doubts. Yes, she would cooperate with the makeover. The more she thought about it, the more she felt her friends were probably right. But when it came to dress shopping, she would pace herself. It was fine if they wanted to make fools of themselves by purchasing formal dresses for a dance no one had invited them to. But she was not falling for it.

“Do you think it’s silly for me to get a makeover?” Cassidy asked her mom on Saturday morning.

Mom’s brows lifted. “A makeover?”

“Nothing major,” Cassidy said quickly. “I mean, I’m not cutting my hair or coloring it or anything drastic.”

“Oh, good.” Mom stroked Cassidy’s hair. “Your hair is gorgeous.”

“Yeah, my friends think it’s my best asset.”

Mom laughed. “Well, I think you have lots of assets.”

Cassidy frowned. “So maybe I don’t need a makeover?”

“You’re getting a makeover?” Callie asked as she came into the kitchen.

Cassidy shrugged. This wasn’t a topic she was eager to discuss in front of her pesky fourteen-year-old sister. After growing several inches and turning unexpectedly pretty (not that Cassidy planned to tell her, since her head was big enough), Callie had gotten obsessed with fashion.

“Well, if anyone could use a makeover, it would be you.”

“Thanks a lot.” Cassidy poured milk into her bowl of Cheerios.

“I’m not trying to offend you.” Callie filled a bowl with granola cereal, measuring it carefully with her eyes, as if she
thought one extra teaspoon might result in a pound. Callie’s recent obsession with weight was ridiculous, bordering on scary. “Just being honest.”

Cassidy turned back to Mom. “What do you think? I mean, in a spiritual way. Do you think God wants us to be all focused on our outward appearances?”

Mom smiled. “I think God prefers we work on our interior selves. But I also think there’s nothing wrong with looking your best.” She glanced at Callie. “As long as you don’t take it to extremes.”

“How do you know if you’re taking it to extremes?” Cassidy asked. Mom wasn’t just a mom. She was also a Christian counselor, and sometimes she was smarter than the average mom. Not always. But for the most part Cassidy respected her. A lot of times she even listened to her. Sure, her friends would probably think that was weird, but it was what it was.

“You have to stop and think,” Mom said as she poured cream into her coffee. “Is your focus on appearances controlling you? Or are you controlling it? As soon as something—anything—starts pressing into your life and taking too much time and energy and ultimately controlling you . . . well, that’s when it’s time to stop and take stock.”

Cassidy thought about this as she munched.