Gimme a Call (24 page)

“I took a look at your test paper,” she begins, looking at me over her moon-shaped eyeglasses, “and—”

I bombed. I must have. Ivy’s going to kill me.

“—you got an A. By far the highest mark in the class. And I was wondering—”

If I cheated? My heart might explode.

“—if you would be interested in being a peer tutor.”

Huh? “Sorry?”

“I have been asked to recommend top students to help other struggling students. Would you be willing? You’ll only have to see two students a week and you’ll get extra credit. What do you think?”

“Oh, um …”

Tutor in history? I would never have passed the test if Ivy hadn’t fed me the questions. Plus I have no time. When am I supposed to do this? My after-school hours are pretty much all booked up.

But I can’t just say no to something without discussing it with Ivy. She’d kill me.

“Why would you want me to be a tutor after only one test?” I ask.

“It wasn’t an easy test,” she says, smiling. “And I have a good feeling about you.”

You wouldn’t if you knew my study practices.

“If you’re interested, just pop by the peer tutoring room and tell the guidance counselor. Take the night to think about it. And congratulations. Well done.”

It doesn’t feel well done. I hurry to my locker to get my lunch money. Then I hurry to the cafeteria; grab a turkey sandwich, an apple juice, and a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips; and dash to yearbook.

And skid to a halt before I smash right into Bryan.

“Good stop,” he says with a smile. “We nearly had another collision.”

I can’t help smiling back. “I’m learning.”

“Where are you off to?”

“Yearbook meeting,” I say, slightly out of breath.

“Good for you,” he says. “I guess that means you don’t want to come outside with me and enjoy the gorgeous day? I have my very own bench that I’d be happy to introduce you to.”

“You do, do you?”

“I do. I’d be willing to share it, though.”

“Thanks,” I say. “But I can’t.” For many, many reasons.

“You sure? It might be one of the last nice days,” he says. “What about after school? Want to get an ice cream?”

“Bryan, I—”

He smiles again. “A purely platonic ice cream.”

I laugh. “I would, but I have play practice.”

“You
are
busy. What are you doing tomorrow? Soccer?”

Golf practice won’t start until next week. Think fast, think fast. “I’m peer tutoring. American history.”

“All right, but if you change your mind, my bench would love to meet you. It even likes salsa.” He waves and heads to the cafeteria. Yeah, I know Ivy hasn’t given me the okay for tutoring yet, but I don’t need a future-telling device to predict that she’d rather I tutor than have ice cream with Bryan. Even though I really like … ice cream.

chapter thirty-seven
Tuesday, June 3
Senior Year

On my way to lunch, I spot Tom heading out the front door. He’s very tall. I’m definitely going to stop by the mall and get some higher heels. I wave. He hesitates before waving back.

Hmmm. I buy a plate of mac and cheese and then I almost drop my cafeteria tray when I see Nick Dennings sitting at our lunch table. How did that happen?

Go, Frosh! He’s sitting right between Joelle and Tash, so Frosh must have made it happen at the party and forgotten to tell me. Forget prom limo! I might be taking a prom plane!

“So,” I say, smiling at Joelle, “who’s getting picked up first on Friday?”

“Karin and Stevey at Karin’s then Tash and Nick—at Nick’s—then me, then you, then the prom.”

Au revoir, Tom. I guess I’m going stag. Probably less painful than making conversation with a guy I don’t even know. Maybe I’ll buy myself a pair of awesome flats. Wait. Tash and Nick? I look back and forth between the two of them. Who knew? How did I miss that before? They’re the perfect couple!

“I guess I have to accept that Jerome just isn’t going to ask me, huh?” Joelle says, leaning her chin against her palm. “Maybe I should have said yes to Kellerman.”

“Too late now,” Tash says. “He’s bringing Elle Mangerls—you know. The sophomore.”

This is getting confusing. It’s like musical dates. And poor Joelle. It’s one thing to go stag because that’s what she wants to do, but it’s another to go stag just because she was waiting for Jerome Cohen to ask her. I need to remind Frosh to help her get over him already.

“We’re going to have the best time,” Karin gushes. “Best prom ever! And I finally bought an iPod for the flight.”

What flight? “Wait a sec,” I say. “Are we taking Nick’s plane to the prom?”

Everyone stares at me. “Since when does Nick have a plane?” Tash asks.

“Doesn’t Nick have a—” Oh. Never mind. “Forget it. What plane, then?”

“The flight to the Caribbean?” Karin says. “Where Nick’s new island is?”

Tash rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe your mom bought you an island for graduation. Who does that?”

“I can’t believe she’s flying us all there for prom weekend,” Karin says. “She’s the best.”

Wowza. New shopping list: flats, new phone battery—it’s still not charging!—and one rockin’ bikini.

I jam my key into the door and run up the stairs. I know it’s going to be better. I know it’s going to be better. She has the answers; it has to be better. I know, I know, I know, I know. Is it UCLA? Did I get my acceptance back? Please, please, please, let me have gotten my acceptance back.

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted to Harvard
.

Harvard.

Harvard!

Harvard Harvard Harvard.

Oh. My. God.

Forget UCLA. I topped UCLA. I beat Maya. I got into Harvard! The number one school in the country! This is insane.

I search around to see if there’s any scholarship info, but I don’t find anything.

Okay, so I haven’t made it yet. I mean, Harvard is amazing, but obviously I need to get a scholarship. I can’t let my parents sell the house to send me there. I just can’t.

I call Frosh.

“We got into Harvard,” I tell her breathlessly, and then burst into a fit of giggles.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“That’s insane!”

“I know! Even Maya only got into UCLA! We are officially smarter than Maya!”

“Oh, wait. Speaking of Maya, she wants me to come visit. On the Columbus Day weekend.”

“What are you talking about?” Why is she rambling about Columbus Day when I’m trying to discuss Harvard?

“Maya? Our sister? Wants to see me?”

“Yeah, I know who she is, thanks. I just don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not going to visit Maya. You never visit Maya.”

“Are you telling me that in four years, I never—not once—go visit Maya at school?”

That doesn’t make me sound very nice. “You’re too busy!” I huff.

“How can I be too busy for my sister?”

“Whatever. You are.”

“What exactly did you do for Columbus Day, freshman year?”

I think it might have involved a couch, a bunch of movies, some blankets, and my then boyfriend. But she doesn’t need to know that.

“You were with Bryan, right?” she presses.

“Perhaps,” I admit.

“Well, I don’t have to do that. I don’t care how busy I am. I’m going to see Maya.”

“We’ll see.” She can’t just jet off for the weekend. What if I need her to do stuff here? Who knows what could happen in California? She could upset the whole timetravel continuum. And what if crossing the time zones will screw stuff up? Until I’m at Harvard with a full scholarship, I’m not taking any chances. No, until I’m married with two kids, I’m not taking any chances. No, until I’m—well, I’m never taking any chances. As long as the phone works, she’ll have to listen to me. No matter how exhausting it is—for either of us.

“I’m going,” she says.

“You’re not if I say you’re not,” I snap.

“Hello, control freak.”

I am not a control freak. I am not. At least, I never used to be. Maybe she’s made me into a control freak. “What if you go and something bad happens?” I retort. “What then, huh?”

“What could possibly happen?” she asks. “I get a tan?”

“Your plane could crash.” I know it’s a mean thing to say, but whatever. It could happen. Although I probably shouldn’t be talking about crashing planes when I’m about to take one to the Caribbean. Maybe I shouldn’t bring that up to Frosh just yet. Anyway. “Remember the lottery? We didn’t think that winning twelve million dollars would lead to Alfonzo.”

She sucks in her breath. “Omigod, you’re so selfish! You don’t care if I crash! You only think about yourself!”

“Are you even listening? You
are
me. And anyway, it could happen,” I say, softening my voice. “Anything could happen. That’s why you have to stay the course. Anything different you do can have major repercussions.”

“Why is me going to visit Maya dangerous, but me using your tests and papers not?”

“Be-because I wrote those tests and papers!” I stutter. “It’s not the same thing. At least, I don’t think it is.” My head starts to pound. I can barely tell what’s right and what’s wrong anymore.

“Maybe I should stop using your old tests, then?” she asks hopefully. “Just in case.”

“No way,” I say. “We are not sliding back from Harvard to Hofstra. I need to give you the answers to everything. For the entire four years.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No! Plus you need to step it up a little.”

“Step it up? Why?”

“Because we may have gotten into Harvard, but we can’t afford it. We need a scholarship. Where are you now?”

“Play rehearsal. I’m always at play rehearsal.”

“Okay, good. I have to go to the mall.”

“Why do you get to go to the mall and I’m stuck at play practice? I hate play pratice! I don’t even have any lines!”

“Because
I
need to figure out how to fix our battery situation. And MediaZone is in the mall.” And I need new shoes for prom and a bikini for post-prom, but I should probably just keep those bits to myself. No need to rub it in. “If you get home before I do, catch up on your reading.”

“Why? I thought I don’t have to anymore now that I have all the tests.”

“You should still keep up with your reading,” I tell her. “What if a teacher calls on you in class? Do you not remember what happened in economics on Monday? Do you want to go to Stupid State? Or do you want to go to Harvard?”

She pauses. “Honestly, I don’t really care.”

“Trust me. You will.”

“Well … I was asked to be a peer tutor. Do you think that will help?”

“Absolutely!” I tell her. Devi Banks, peer tutor! Who would have thought?

“But how am I supposed to help people do their history homework when I have the worst memory in the world?” she asks. “Maybe I shouldn’t do it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I snap. Yikes. That was mean. Have I always been this mean? Ever since the Bryan breakup, I’ve gotten so … hard. She brings it out in me, though. She’s giving me a serious headache. Can’t she see how close we are to getting everything I—we—want? I’m not going to feel guilty about this. I’m doing this for
us
.

“I just might not be able to help it,” Frosh says. “Nature versus nurture and all that.”

“Frosh, I take it back. You are not stupid.
We
are not stupid. And this is a fantastic opportunity.” We’re so close I can taste it. “It’ll get us a scholarship to Harvard for sure.”

“Get
you
a scholarship to Harvard, you mean.”

“Get
us
. Us. It’s all about us.”

“Is it? I just want to go to the mall.”

“Try to think a little bit more long-term, will ya?”

“I
do
want to go to a good college. But do I really need to go to the
best
college?” She sighs. “How am I supposed to tutor when I don’t understand anything?”

“I’ll help you.”
Eeeeeep!
Or not. The battery warning comes on every half hour now. Scary.