Hard to Get (5 page)

I shook my head. “But, Willy, you're right here. I'm talking to you. So we don't have to IM.”

He looked crestfallen. “Oh. It's just that I thought you said we could IM, so I …” His voice trailed off.

I gritted my teeth. The beginnings of a headache were starting in my temples. “Well, we don't have to IM. Okay?” I said tersely. “We're talking right now.”

He nodded silently. Still standing at
the bottom of the steps, my bag over my shoulder, I looked from Kevin's red, meaty face on one side of the porch to Willy's pale one. The door was in between them. I briefly considered making a run for it. Then I sighed. “Look, guys, I really don't know what's going on. All I know is that this has been the craziest day of my life. I'm so tired and I have a headache. I don't want to talk or”—I held up my hand as Willy opened his mouth—“IM.” He closed his mouth. “Okay?” I mounted the steps and went inside. But as the door banged shut, a thought occurred to me. I turned around and pulled the door open. They were both still standing on the porch, exactly as I had left them.

“Can I ask you guys something?”

“Sup?” Kevin replied. He looked unfazed by my shutting the door in his face.

“Um, this might sound kind of weird, but … how come neither of you have ever asked me out before?” I couldn't believe I was saying this aloud, but I had to know if Kelly was right.

“Dude.” Kevin sounded as if he couldn't believe how dense I was. “There wasn't any chance. You always had a boyfriend before.”

Willy nodded in silent agreement.

“Thanks.” I pulled the door shut again and leaned against it, exhaling only when I heard their slow footsteps leave the porch.

That night, after dinner, I retreated to my room to start working on the
Twelfth Night
revision. I flicked on Taylor Swift and climbed onto my bed, opening my laptop. It wouldn't hurt to check out Facebook for one second, just to see those race photos Becca posted. I clicked on my profile and rubbed my eyes as I stared at the screen. Did that say
forty
new friend requests? Maybe it was a computer glitch and there were actually four. I scanned down the list. No, it was forty. All guys from school. I ignored every one, poking at the keyboard so hard I jammed a knuckle.

Focus, Val.
I closed out of Facebook and found the
Twelfth Night
paper in my folder. I scanned the comments. Mr. Fleming thought the opening was weak. I opened my
Complete Shakespeare
and poised my fingers over the keyboard. Suddenly, Viola's first line in the play caught my eye: “What country, friends, is this?” Viola was shipwrecked in Illyria, a place she didn't know and where no one
knew her. I tapped my fingers on the page, thinking. Viola's life was totally new. She could do anything she wanted. How awesome would that be?

Suddenly, I sat up. Shakespeare slid onto the carpet. Wasn't that kind of what Becca had been saying earlier? Escaping.
What if I pulled a Viola?
I jumped up and paced restlessly around the room, stopping to stare sightlessly out the window. I couldn't run away of course, but what if I just … checked out for a while?

I sank down on my bed, thinking hard, and then clicked open my chat window. Luckily both Becca and Kelly were online.

Me:
Girls, are you there? This is going to rock your world.

Becca:
What's up?

Kelly:
My world could use a little rocking. I hate calc problem sets!

Me:
I've been inspired by Shakespeare. Are you ready?

Becca:
Just tell us already!

Me:
I'm going to pull a Viola.

Kelly:
You're going to pretend to be a guy?

Me:
No, I'm going to escape for a while.

Becca:
What are you talking about? Your parents will freak out if you go to France.

Me:
No, I'm not going to France. I'm swearing off guys!

Becca:
What are you talking about?

Me:
No boys and no romance. Isn't this brilliant?

Kelly:
I'm not sure “brilliant” is exactly the word. “Insane” might be better.

Me:
Thanks for the vote of confidence. Let's meet for breakfast tomorrow. I'll explain the whole thing.

I closed my chat window. This plan could save my sanity and, hopefully, the rest of my junior year. But first I had to figure out the details.

“I would've asked for this in a sippy cup if I'd known you were going to be driving the Saab,” Becca said the next morning as we headed for the Sunporch Café. She attempted another sip of her caramel latte just as I wrestled the car into second. A wave of amber liquid baptized her Seven skinny jeans. “Val!” she exclaimed.

“Hey, at least we even have a car to drive today,” I said, fighting with the clutch. “Mom was threatening to take it grocery shopping, but I talked her out of it.” At the next red light, I remembered to press the clutch before stomping the brake and gingerly easing the Saab into neutral.

“Yeah, I feel
so
lucky the Beemer's in the
shop,” Becca muttered. She had a blob of whipped cream on her upper lip. It made her look like a transvestite Charlie Chaplin. “How come we're not picking up Kel?”

“She's meeting us. She wanted to bike.” The light turned green and I took a deep breath. Foot on clutch and brake, then off brake and on clutch, shift into first, press on accelerator, then foot off clutch but carefully. A fire truck began wailing just behind me and roared past as I slammed my foot on the brake, forgetting the clutch, of course. “Darn!” The Saab jolted across the intersection in big bronco bucks.

“Hel-help, hel-help,” Becca jerked out, holding on to her coffee with both hands.

“Hang on, I've got it now,” I said, just as the motor stalled.

“Val, get us out of here!” Becca yelled, staring at the line of cars forming on either side of us. I could hear a few ominous honks.

“I'm trying!” I forced myself to breathe before I shifted into neutral again and carefully eased into first. Bing. The Saab crept smoothly across the intersection as if it had never stalled in its life.

“So,” Becca breathed. “Are you going to tell me about that madness online last night?”

I grinned. “No, wait until we get there. Then I can explain it to both of you at once.” I braked hard as the green awning of the Sunporch suddenly loomed in front of me. The car slewed sideways and wound up in a parking space, bumper first. “Hey, look, right in front!” I chortled as I climbed from the car. I recognized Kelly's bike locked to the telephone pole in front of us.

“You're three feet from the curb!” Becca protested. She stared at the wide gap of asphalt in dismay.

“Whatever! Let's go, I'm starving.” I could see Kelly waving to us from a table in the window. “I need some eggs Benedict, like right now.”

The steamy fragrance of frying bacon hit me full in the face as we pulled open the glass doors. Sunlight flooded the little restaurant, pouring in the big front windows and spreading in pools on the gleaming wooden floor. All around was the pleasant murmur and clink of breakfast, punctuated by the ring of the cash register up front.

“Okay, talk, you,” Kelly ordered the moment we slid into our seats. Her wet hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and her
skin was fresh and rosy. Three orange juices stood at our places.

“Oh my God, please don't tell me you've already been running,” Becca moaned as she opened the huge plastic-covered menu. “It's ten o'clock on Saturday!”

Kelly shrugged. “I only did five miles like usual.”

Becca rolled her eyes and looked up as a waitress with a shaved head and big plastic plugs in her earlobes appeared by our table. “I'll have the banana chocolate-chip pancakes with whipped cream, a side of bacon, and two eggs, scrambled. Thanks.”

“Just oatmeal for me and a grapefruit,” Kelly said. “And coffee with skim milk.”

Becca's glare practically burned a hole in the booth behind Kelly's head. “You know, I think I'll have a side of hash browns also,” she said to the punked-out server.

Kelly smiled sweetly. “Actually, no milk with the coffee. Black is fine.”

I sighed. Another morning with passive-aggressive food competition. “Eggs Benedict,” I said. The waitress nodded, blank-faced, and scribbled on her pad before walking away.

“Okay!” Kelly turned to me like a woman on a mission. “Talk, crazy lady.”

I grinned and took a leisurely sip of orange juice. The girls leaned forward across the table.

“Come on!” Becca said. “You're driving us crazy. What was the deal with all that weird stuff about Violet?”

“Viola,” I corrected. “Remember, the girl in
Twelfth Night
?”

They both stared at me blankly.

“See, Viola gets shipwrecked and she's all alone, so—”

“Whatever!” Becca cut me off. “Are you out of your gourd?”

I leaned back in my chair. The sun streaming in the window was warm on my face. “I'm one hundred percent sane. It's just like I said. I'm swearing off guys.”

“Forever?” Kelly asked.

“No, just until school lets out. It'll be the perfect end to my junior year. For the first time since eighth grade, there'll be no boys in my life at all. I mean, not romantically. It's a brilliant plan. ”

Kelly snorted. “It would be brilliant
if
you could hold out that long. School's not out for two months. You won't even last
one
month.”

“I can too last a month!” I insisted like a five-year-old.

“You can't.”

The flat finality of her voice irritated me. “Kelly Meade, I can.” I was getting loud.

“So do it.” She widened her eyes at me.

“Fine,” I snapped. “One month.” I fixed her with my eyes. She stared right back.

Becca pursed her lips. “What about flirting?”

I shook my head. “No flirting.”

“What about just
talking
?” Becca asked.

I thought. “I guess talking is okay. I mean, like my chem lab partner is a guy and I have to talk to him. And telling Willy I can't go out with him, that would be okay.”

“Right,” Kelly said. We were silent a moment, and then she burst out laughing.

“What?” I asked.

“This is impossible! You won't be able to do it. For one thing, no one can go a whole semester without at least
flirting
.” She pointed her coffee spoon at me as if it were a fencing sword. Little brown droplets dripped off it.

“Well, I can. Have a little more confidence, will you?”

The waitress arrived with her laden tray and set down our food. I took a bite of my
eggs Benedict. The hollandaise was silky and delicious.

“Is this all because of Dave?” Becca asked, pouring half a pitcher of syrup over her pancakes.

I cut into my second egg and watched as the yolk ran over my plate. “Partly. But it's also everything that's been happening at school. All the stuff from guys is really getting on my nerves. Maybe checking out for a while would give me a new perspective on things.” I speared a piece of Canadian bacon and stuffed it into my mouth.

“Well, it seems kind of out of character for you,” Becca said. “You've
always
had a boyfriend.”

I thought of Kevin and Willy on the porch yesterday. “So? A person can change, can't she?” I said, poking at another piece of egg. It slid out from under my fork and flew off the plate, landing on the front of Becca's pink cashmere sweater.

“Val!” Becca dabbed at the egg. “Look, sure a person can change. But why are you being so extreme? Why not just say, I'm not going to go out with anyone for a while? Why all the rules?” She dipped her napkin in her water and scrubbed at her sweater.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“Well, don't be sorry. I mean, I'm just giving you my opinion—”

“No! I meant sorry about the egg.” I leaned forward. “And as for all the rules, I mean, I have to have a plan if I'm going to do this. If there aren't any rules, I might screw it up. And you guys know—if I'm going to do something, then I'm going to do it right. No half-assing.” I waved my fork at them. “I thought you guys were my supportive friends, huh? Whatever happened to that?”

“We
are
supportive,” Becca soothed. “It's just that this seems kind of …”

“Crazy?” Kelly suggested.

I heaved a disgusted sigh. “Look, just trust me. It's going to be great.”

“Yeah, but this is totally out of character for you,” Kelly insisted. “You wouldn't even know how to do it.”

“Nuns do it all the time.” Becca ran the last piece of pancake around on her plate.