Hard to Get (9 page)

Becca turned and stared at Adam. “Hi,” she said coolly. She turned to me. “Let's go. I totally forgot I'm supposed to take tickets at that tennis thing tomorrow morning.”

“I can't believe you let your mom sucker you into another one of those,” I said, rising. Adam stood up also.

“Maybe I'll see you around, Val,” he said.

I glanced at him sharply but he had already turned away to dump our tea bottles in the recycling bin. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “Maybe.”

Becca glanced at me as we approached the front doors of school Monday morning. “You look kind of … pale, Val,” she said. “Are you nervous?”

“Sort of. I didn't even eat breakfast this morning.” I smiled at her and rubbed my sweaty palms on the side of my jeans. To help my plan, I was clad in another invisible-girl getup: a guy's V-neck white T-shirt, saggy jeans I usually wore camping, and Tevas. “This
is
the first official day of the GNBP, after all. My new life is waiting for me!” I sounded more brave than I felt. I eyed the entrance ahead. The doors had been chocked open to let in the warm spring air and I could see the lobby already filled with
kids milling around, sitting cross-legged on the floor finishing homework, leaning against the walls, talking on their phones.

“But you started the other night at the party,” Becca said.

“I know, but this is the first
real
day—you know, at school, a whole day, that sort of thing.” I widened my eyes to impress on her the supreme importance of the occasion.

She patted my shoulder as we parted ways by the lockers. “Go get 'em, tiger. See you at lunch.”

By second period, I was feeling more confident, despite my rumbling stomach. I found an invitation to Kevin's party on Saturday in my backpack, but even so, the invisibility outfit seemed to be working. I actually passed Brian North and Travis Gosdin in the hallway and they barely glanced at me. True, they were talking to each other at the time, but still, by the time I slid into my seat across from Kelly in calc, I was wondering why I ever thought the GNBP was going to be hard.

“How's it going?” Kelly asked, looking up from her phone.

“Great,” I said, setting my messenger bag on the floor. “I feel really free, you
know?” Something was weird about my seat, lumpy. I looked down. Tinfoil was sticking out from under my thigh. I shifted to one side and extricated a foil-wrapped bundle of something. Kelly raised her eyebrows at me.

“Ah, Miss Rushford, may I remind you that food is not permitted in class?” Mr. Henning pointed to the bundle. His long, red neck bobbed up and down like a reproving brontosaurus's. I picked up the package. A golden brown chocolate-chip cookie peered out through a gap in the foil. My mouth started watering.

“Sorry, Mr. Henning,” I mumbled. I quickly sniffed the bundle. It smelled amazing. I flipped it over.
From Willy
read a scrawled label stuck to the bottom. Darn. Most definitely a GNBP violation. I looked up and smiled weakly at the boy himself, whose eyes were glued to mine from across the room. His hair was sticking straight up. When he turned his head, I could see the matted part at the back where he'd slept on it. Kelly leaned over to read the label and snorted.

“Tsk-tsk. Naughty, naughty,” she whispered. I scowled at her. At the front of the
room, Mr. Henning uncapped a marker with relish and turned to the whiteboard. Immediately, a soporific lull fell over the room.

“Let's take out our notebooks and begin with problem set six point four!” he bubbled, sounding as if he were really saying, “Let's take off our clothes and have a wild orgy!”

I stuffed the cookies under my seat and determinedly opened my binder, trying to ignore the delicious chocolate scent wafting up to me. Up at the whiteboard, Mr. Henning was enthusiastically solving problem set 6.4 all by himself. I glanced around the room. Ten people were texting, three were sleeping—one with his head on the desk—and five were staring blankly out the window. I picked up my pencil just as my phone vibrated in my pocket. I slipped it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen.

Do you like the cookies?

Oh, God. I snuck a glance at Willy. He saw me and a sloppy grin spread over his face, which was an alarming shade of scarlet. I ducked my head. Across the aisle, Kelly was doodling curlicues and spirals in her notebook and humming a little tune.

Me:
Yeah, thanks.

Hopefully, that would get rid of him.

Willy:
It's my grandmother's recipe. I asked her to make them especially for you. They're hazelnut-dark-chocolate-raspberry.

Did he have to tell me that? The aroma of chocolate was stronger than ever. In a minute, I was going to start drooling all over my problem set. I glanced down at the cookies. The edge of one was still sticking out. I could just break off one tiny piece. I was about to pass out from hunger anyway. As quietly as I could, I poked my fingers into the package, all the while keeping my eyes innocently on the whiteboard. The foil rustled. I froze and looked up. Kelly was staring at me fixedly. Across the room, Willy sat on the edge of his seat, apparently anticipating my first bite of Grandma's Aphrodisiac Cookies.

Suddenly, the realization of what I was about to do hit me. Day One of the GNBP and I was about to screw it up for a cookie. How could I do this? I summoned my resolve and, grabbing the cookies from under my seat, I reached back and tipped the whole package into the wastebasket standing against the wall behind me. Willy buried his face in his hands. Kelly stared
at me a moment longer, then shrugged and returned to her doodling. I lay back in my seat, arms dangling, legs splayed out, heart hammering. At this rate, I wasn't sure I was going to survive to see senior year.

As I crossed the wide green lawn at lunchtime, I could see Becca and Kelly already sitting under our usual tree near the parking lot. I dropped my bag to the ground with a thud and sank down next to them. “Ohhh,” I moaned.

“Is your arthritis bothering you again, Grandma?” Becca asked as she delicately ate cashews with the tips of her fingers.

“Give me a break. Calc was a little rough.” I unwrapped my tuna sandwich and shoved half of it into my mouth with the first bite.

“Kels told me.” Becca licked the salt off a cashew. “Poor Willy. He's probably headed for a life of drugs and misery and it'll be all your fault.”

I tried to stick my tongue out at her but my mouth was full of tuna. I settled for throwing a baby carrot at her head.

Kelly took a swig of water from her Nalgene. “Hey, did you guys hear that
Taylor's getting her prom dress custom-made? Some place that makes wedding dresses is doing it.”

Becca huffed. “Kelly, is it really necessary to have up-to-the-minute updates on the life of Taylor Slutmaster?”

“It's fine.” I lay back on the grass, stuffing my bag under my head for a pillow, and crooked an arm over my eyes. “I'm totally, one hundred and fifty percent over it. I've moved on. On, on, on. On into the sunset, riding a white horse. Good-bye, Dave. Good-bye, Taylor. I hope you both get married and have lots of babies. Have a nice life together.”

“Yeah, you sound really over it,” Becca said. From the dark behind my eyes, I heard rustling and the crunching of what sounded like apple slices.

“Are you sure they're even going to prom?” Kelly asked.

I snorted. “Why wouldn't they? I'm sure Dave's got the hotel room all reserved and waiting.”

“Ohhh! I cannot stand the idea of watching them hump each other on the dance floor like two little poodles,” Becca moaned.

I sat up. “Thanks for the image, Becs.
I'll carry that around with me the rest of the day.”

“Don't worry, Val, we'll warn you if they get too close,” Kelly told me. She swigged from her Nalgene again and screwed the top on, resting it in the grass next to her.

Becca finished her apple and crumpled up the sandwich bag. I leaned back on my hands and gazed at the blue sky. A few puffy clouds skated overhead. The little knots of juniors and seniors scattered over the lawn were breaking up as people headed inside to finish homework or out to their cars to smoke. Next to me, Becca took out her compact and combed her shiny black hair, which already looked perfect. The air was very still and quiet. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of clover, listening to the sleepy drone of a bee somewhere nearby.

“Hey!” Kelly said suddenly. We all jumped a little and looked at her. “We still have fifteen minutes. Let's go check out rugby practice.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

Becca snapped her compact shut. “Sure. I could use a little eye candy right about now.”

We strolled across the lawn toward
the metal bleachers glinting in the sun. A group of seniors was hurtling around the grass like colorful, sweaty gibbons. As we neared the bleachers, Kelly started waving so hard at one big, dark-haired guy that I thought her arm was going to fly off.

“Bruce! Bruce!” she trilled. “Hi!”

“Who's that?” Becca asked. She perched on a bleacher and I slid in beside her.

“Oh my God, he's the best rugby player,” Kelly said breathlessly as Bruce lumbered up, patting his face with the hem of his T-shirt, revealing chiseled abs covered with a mat of damp hair.

“What's up, ladies?” Bruce said, breathing heavily. “Hey, Kelly. I saw you in the regional semifinals. Nice finish on the butterfly.”

“Thanks. Bruce, these are my friends, Becca and Val.”

We all nodded. I glanced at my watch. There were only a few more minutes until the bell, and I still had to get my books for the afternoon. I stood up.

“Cool, nice to meet you, Bruce. Girls, I'm going to go inside—” I was cut off when Kelly grabbed my arm and yanked me
back down on the bleachers. I sat down on the warm metal hard.

“So you guys should have seen the amazing goal Bruce scored during the scrimmage last week,” Kelly twittered. She kept a firm hold on my arm. I glanced at the Bruce under discussion. He flashed a massive grin in my direction.

I smiled back politely and glanced over at Kelly. “You're hurting my wrist,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

She let go carefully, as if releasing a potentially rambunctious dog from the leash. When she had apparently assured herself that I was going to remain sitting, she got to her feet, leaving barely six inches of space between me and the hulk of sweating masculinity that was Bruce the Rugby Player. Then she stood in front of us, staring at me.

“What, Kel?” I asked. “Do I have some lunch on my face?”

She started a little. “Oh, no. You don't. Oh my gosh!” She clapped her hand to her mouth. We all looked at her.

“What?” I asked.

“You know, I'm just
so
thirsty,” she said. She wiped her brow as if it were dripping,
even though it was only about seventy out.

“I've got some water in my bag,” Bruce offered. He half rose from the bleacher. “I'll just go get it.”

“No!” Kelly shouted and pushed him back down. He blinked and sat with a thump. “Ah, actually, I meant, no thanks, Bruce. I'm craving a Diet Coke, that's all. I'll just go inside and buy one.”

“The vending machines are turned off during lunch,” Becca pointed out.

“Oh yeah. Um, I'll just get one out of my locker. Come with me, Bec.”

Becca snorted. “No.” She glared at Kelly, remaining glued to the bleacher. Kelly shifted her weight back and forth for a moment, then turned and rushed toward the school.

“So, Val, you ever try rugby?” Bruce rumbled.

“Er, no. I haven't.” I glanced at Becca, whose eyebrows were knit anxiously.

“Well, hey, anytime you want a private lesson, I'd be happy to show you—”

Becca popped up from the bleacher. “Ooh, Bruce,” she cooed, plopping herself right down in between us. “Guess what? I just learned to read palms. Here, let me
see yours.” She grabbed his massive, sweaty hand and turned it over. I gaped at her, moving over a few inches to extract my suddenly squashed thigh. Bruce looked surprised but submitted happily. “This is your love line,” she murmured. Bruce was now gazing dreamily at the top of her head.

Suddenly, Kelly reappeared, walking rapidly toward us. Her hands were empty.

“What happened to your Diet Coke?” I asked as she approached.

“I, um, drank it inside,” she said, her eyes darting from Bruce to Becca to me and back again. “What are you doing,
Becca
?” she asked pointedly. “Did you learn fortune telling on your last D and G shopping trip?”

Becca narrowed her eyes at Kelly. “For your information, my grandmother taught me. I wouldn't expect you to understand, though. I don't think they teach it in Jock School.”

Kelly suddenly shifted gears. “Hey, you left your lights on in the Beemer this morning. I saw it when I was getting my drink.”

Becca bolted up from the bleacher. “Shoot! I had to call Triple A last time—my mom's
going to kill me if it happens again.”