Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) (17 page)

Why was he so popular with girls these days? I raised an eyebrow. “Your fan club awaits.”

He waved at them but moved a fraction closer to me. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

I puffed out a loud breath. “Nice cliché usage. I’m not afraid of you, Dragon Boy.” I pushed him down the aisle. “Go on. They’re waiting for you.”

He walked on, but then paused and turned back. “I mean it.”

I nodded and headed the opposite direction. I didn’t want to watch him laugh and flirt with Lainey and Kara. It felt too much like watching our friendship dwindle into nothing.

Thirty-Two

Lindsey

At my weekly grocery shopping on Saturday, I debated with myself over giving football player Jeremy Farina another chance. The pros were that he was nice looking with a great smile and unlimited muscles. The cons were that there was no spark, no connection. I’d spent a lot of time this past week walking with him to class and eating lunch with him, and I’d had to fake my interest. It just wasn’t happening naturally.

I shook open a plastic bag and put a crown of broccoli in it, then headed for the potatoes. I wished I hadn’t forgotten my headphones. The store music was stuck in a Mariah Carey loop.
Focus, Lindsey.
Right. Jeremy. I probably didn’t need to actually be in love with a new lucky boy—just spend enough time with him that my luck would improve. But how much time would it take? And did I really want to invest that time in Jeremy?

But if I didn’t, I’d need to start over with another guy from my list. Maybe I should just hang out with one of the theater boys. At least I really liked them. I would totally do it, if they just wouldn’t go all weird thinking I wanted to be more than friends.

I set a bag of baking potatoes in the grocery cart, looked up, and froze. Only fifteen feet away, by the bakery section, stood Adam with Brisa. He was eating a donut and looking at her with an amused expression on his face. My heart flipped over once, and then, even though I knew it wasn’t possible, I swore it stopped beating.

I had to move on, go before they saw me, but I couldn’t look away. Brisa reached up and brushed something out of the dark stubble on Adam’s cheek. The gesture was so familiar that I actually felt the roughness along his jaw. My fingers twitched involuntarily, and I tightened them around the cart’s plastic-covered handle.

A toddler shrieked from a nearby shopping cart. Adam looked over and saw me. He didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. He gazed straight into my eyes for two seconds, and then looked away. Such a short amount of time, but it was like he’d acted out our breakup all over again.

And all the pain I’d kept at bay through theater, and lucky charms, and other people, came rushing over those barriers, flooding my entire body. Voices around me resonated like we were in a long tunnel, and a woman said, “All right, sweetie, it’s okay. Mommy’s almost finished. Then we can have lunch.”

I was shaking. I wanted to scream at her.
It is not okay! Can’t you see that? It never will be!

And then I was moving, slowly, so that I didn’t damage anything or anyone, so that I didn’t draw attention to myself. I pushed the cart away from the bakery section, away from Adam and Brisa. I didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t know how I was going to finish the shopping. And Mom would be mad because she wanted milk and I didn’t have the milk yet, so I grabbed that thought like a lifeline and went to the dairy section. I added the gallon of milk and half gallon of soy milk to my cart as if I were a normal shopper. As if I could actually process where I was and what I was doing.

I made my way to the shortest checkout line. I was not going to fall apart. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t finish the shopping. It wasn’t a total disaster. I’d remembered the milk.

The checker tallied my groceries while I fumbled with my wallet—not able to feel my fingers—trying to get my mom’s credit card out. Once I did, I ran it through the machine, pushing buttons by habit, not daring to look up in case I saw Adam again.

And then, miraculously, I was finished. I pushed the cart out into the bright, chilly day and headed for my dad’s SUV. I inhaled a shuddering breath, my heart suddenly deciding to beat again.

It’s going to be okay. You remembered the milk.

Thirty-Three

Berger

After Mom left the kitchen to help Nana get ready for bed, I tilted my chair back on two legs. Dad slid his empty ice cream bowl out of the way and leaned his chin on his hand. “You’re going to break your neck,” he said, “which will be very inconvenient.”

Ashley popped me hard on the kneecap with her spoon.

“Ow!” I dropped my chair to the floor with a bang. “What was that for?”

She sent me a sickly sweet smile. “Just trying to save your neck.”

“At the expense of my knee,” I said.

“Yeah, there are always trade-offs in safety.”

“Says who?”

Dad set his glasses on his head and rubbed his eyes. “Would you two stop, please? It’s been a long day.”

“Sorry,” Ashley said.

“Yeah, sorry Dad,” I said. “But you have to give us some points for being nice to each other while Nana was at the table.”

He pressed the heels of hands against his eyes, not saying anything. I sent Ash a questioning look. She shrugged, then gathered a couple of empty ice cream bowls, and took them to the sink. I grabbed the rest and followed her. Our parents must not have been telling us about something being wrong at the coffee shop. I opened my mouth to ask when my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I moved away from Ashley as I dug out my phone.

Lindsey: Can you come over?

Huh. That was unexpected. Lindsey had acted weird all week at school, hanging around the football dude again and insisting that everything was fine between us, even though we’d never really talked over our argument at Claire’s house. And she’d abandoned me, leaving me to work with scary UFO Kara.

I didn’t really feel like talking to Lindsey after the week I’d had. But I didn’t want to skip the chance to get our easy friendship back.

Berger: Now?

Lindsey: Yeah. I’ll make hot chocolate!

That clinched it. I needed to get over there.

My dad was staring across the room at nothing. I strolled closer. “Any problem with me going over to Lindsey’s house?”

He frowned up at me. “Now?” He glared at his watch. “At nine thirty at night?”

“It’s Saturday.”

“Who’s Lindsey, anyway?” he asked.

“A friend from school. You know, the girl I’ve been rehearsing with for the play?”

Ashley let out a quiet laugh. “She’s more than just that.”

I gave her a dirty look. I
so
did not want to go there.

“Are her parents home?” Dad asked.

“Let me check.”

Berger: Your parents there?

Lindsey: At a late dinner with my brother. Back soon.

I passed that info along, and my dad sighed like he was exhausted. “Okay,” he said. “Be back by midnight.”

“Thanks,” I said, heading for the door. “I can take your car?”

He waved a hand.

“Have fun, Doodles,” Ashley said.

There was so much snark in her tone that I swung around and blinked my eyelashes at her. “I will, Pot Pie.”

***

I followed Lindsey into her brightly lit kitchen where music played and something smelled like chocolate.

“You’re gonna love this,” she said over her shoulder.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” She stopped in front of a pan on the stove and pointed. “Look.”

The rich scent of warm chocolate enveloped me as I leaned closer. I inhaled deeply and shut my eyes.

Lindsey laughed. “I know, right?”

“Shh. You’re ruining the moment.”

“Ha.” She pushed me aside and ladled the hot chocolate into two mugs.

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” I said, reaching for a mug. “The powder stuff would’ve been fine.”

She held up a hand. “Wait. You’ll miss the best part.” She grabbed a bottle of clear liquid and poured some into one mug.

“What’s that?”

She grinned. “Heaven in a bottle. Peppermint schnapps.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but no.”

Her face fell. “Seriously? You’re no fun.”

I shook my head. “That kind of stuff makes my legs feel like noodles, and since a noodle can’t depress a car’s accelerator, I’d better not. I’d never get home.”

She capped the bottle and set it aside. “Oh, all right. But you’re missing out.” She turned off the burner under the hot chocolate.

We took our mugs to the kitchen table and sat. Lindsey blew on her drink, then sipped it. “Ah, that’s so good. I can’t believe you don’t want any.”

I sipped my hot chocolate, its sweet warmth sliding across my throat. “This is amazing just like it is.” She smiled and drank some more. And since it was already ten o’clock, I figured I’d better cut to the chase. “So, did you just want company, or are we finally going to talk about our fight?”

“I’ve already told you that we’re good. I forgive you. What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like there’s something else. Something you’re not saying.”

She took another sip and sighed. “I have no idea what that would be.”

“Okay, let’s try an experiment.”

She gave me a wary look. “What?”

“Shut your eyes.”

“Why?”

“So we can move past this.”

“Berger! I already have. You’re the one who can’t let go of it.”

I laughed. “Okay, then. I have a question for you.” I motioned to her mug. “But first, drink up.”

“Happily.” She wrapped both hands around her mug and brought it to her lips. After a long swallow, she set it down and gave me a loopy smile. “Yes?”

“When you found out I’d told Nick where to sit in the auditorium, how did you feel?”

“Hurt, because you went behind my back,” she blurted out, then looked surprised she’d said anything. “You’re trying to get me drunk so I’ll tell you things.”

I couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “You’re trying to get yourself drunk.”

She shook her head. “Not drunk. Just really, really relaxed.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” I said in a low voice, mostly because I couldn’t get the words out any louder.

She leaned forward slowly, staring into my eyes, her look so intense there was no doubt I was about to get the truth from her. Finally. “I trusted you,” she said. “You were my friend, and I trusted you, and no matter why you did it, I still feel like I can’t trust you anymore.”

And there it was. “I’m still your friend. And I’ll never interfere in your dating life again. I promise.”

She ran a fingertip back and forth across the glass tabletop, looking so sad that I had to sit on my hands to keep from hauling her into a hug.

“Lindsey,” I said.

She looked up, her hand going still.

“I’m gonna do whatever it takes for you to trust me again. Okay? I’m gonna tell you all my deepest, darkest secrets. So many things, you’ll be sorry you ever gave me the chance. But you
will
give me the chance, because you want us to be besties again, and we have to be because we’re both married to Bagel Bites and that causes us to have to practically live together, so it’s important that we get along.

“So, no secrets, no lies. Okay?”

She stared back, her mouth half open. “I have no idea what you just said, except no secrets, no lies. I agree.”

“Good.” I got up. “My hot chocolate has cooled off. Don’t freak out, but I’m gonna put it in the microwave.”

She placed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Ah, Berger, sometimes I despair of you.”

I grinned. “Now who’s not making sense?”

She stood. “I don’t know, but I need another one of these.”

Uh-oh.
She’d downed that pretty fast. Maybe I could get her to drink one without the schnapps. But no. Before I’d even closed the microwave door, she’d splashed a measure of schnapps into her mug. Okay, new game plan. Keep Lindsey more sober than drunk. Yeah, that was going to be easy.

I punched in twenty seconds on the microwave and hit start. “So what’s this weird music we’re listening to?”

She straightened. “Oh. I forgot I turned that on. It’s The Beatles, on my dad’s playlist.”

“What’s the song? And why, oh why, do you have it on repeat?” The microwave beeped. I grabbed my mug.

“Um, I don’t know.” She went to her mother’s desk and reached up to the shelves, flicking something that turned the music off. “Oh, right, I remember now. It’s called ‘Yesterday,’ about a bad breakup.”

Oh, great.
Alcohol. Sad breakup song. Had something happened to put her in this mood? Or was she just generally depressed? I grabbed her mug and dumped out half the liquid—hopefully most of the alcohol—then poured in more hot chocolate from the pan. When she came back, I handed it to her. “In the interest of full disclosure and no secrets,” I said, “I dumped out some of your schnapps.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You did what?”

“You put too much in. You were gonna get too relaxed, too fast. So I just lightened it up a little.”

She scowled. “You shouldn’t have.”

She snatched up the bottle to add more, but I touched her hand, stopping her. “Taste it first,” I said.

Her lips were tight, but she sipped the drink anyway. “It’s all right, I guess.” Her voice came out so flat and grumpy that I sucked in my cheeks so I wouldn’t laugh.

“See,” I said, “I don’t want to hang with passed-out Lindsey. I want you to be awake so you can tell me jokes.”

A sound like a smothered laugh came from her throat. “You’re such a big baby.”

“I know. That’s why people love me so much.”

“Come on, Mr. Delusional.” She grabbed my shirt tail and pulled me out of the kitchen.

Thirty-Four