Lipstick Apology (16 page)

“I am so demoting you from best friend status,” I declared, stepping out onto the broad sunny stone steps in front of the library, cabs and other cars whizzing by below.

“Ooooh. Threaten away,” Georgia teased. “You can't live without me and you know it.”

MONDAY MORNING, IN HOMEROOM,
Anthony turned around and secretly slid the lab report into my backpack. He held a finger to his lips and mouthed,
Ssshhh.

For a moment, I had an ounce of guilt and wondered if Georgia was right. But it was too late; the report was due by sixth period. So I smiled and whispered, “Thank you.” Then I silently prayed.
Hey, Big Guy. I swear, I'm only accepting this because of the dire circumstances.
I thought about adding that it would be super-great if I got an A on this report but decided not to press my luck.

 

WHEN I SAT DOWN
at the lunch table later, Andi was frantically text messaging on her iPhone as Lindsey read over her shoulder.

Andi looked up at me. “Okay,” she said, very business-like, tapping the screen of her phone. “When Aidan stopped by to visit me at the Roxy shoot yesterday, he said that Owen had not mentioned anything about the date or lack of a kiss. So we're seeing if he mentions it today.”

“That's good, right?” Lindsey asked.

I looked across the room and saw Aidan staring down at his phone. Owen sat next to him, dipping his fry in ketchup.

“You're texting Aidan NOW?” I shrieked. “STOP! Owen is right there! He'll think I'm a stalker!”

Andi slid her phone into her purse. “Aidan said he's going to casually bring up the party, then say,
So, did you spend all day Saturday cleaning up?
That'll give Owen an opportunity to tell them he spent Saturday with you. If he doesn't mention anything—”

I interjected. “Then we'll assume he's embarrassed to be seen with me and thinks I'm a total loser.”

“Not true!” Lindsey said.

Andi fingered her blond hair. “But if he DOES bring up the date, Aidan will be able to tell if he likes you or not by how Owen talks about you.”

I felt my stomach do a flip.

Andi's cell phone remained silent for the remainder of lunch.

“They're probably just talking football,” Lindsey said reassuringly.

We glanced over at their lunch table and saw the guys talking animatedly. Aidan and Ethan high-fived, then Ethan stood up, reached into the back pocket of his khakis, and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. He smacked it down on the table in front of Aidan.

“See,” Andi said, flipping her shiny blond hair as she turned back to face us. “Football bets. We'll just have to wait.”

 

AT THE START OF CHEMISTRY CLASS,
Mrs. Klein requested the lab reports. As I turned around to collect the reports behind me, I noticed Carly again was not wearing her glasses. But obviously, she couldn't see. Her eyes were all squinty, and she pushed her pages back and forth to try and focus. Ethan tapped Carly's shoulder, and immediately she stopped squinting, turned, and looked at him, flushing. Ethan flung his lab report toward her and the stapled pages missed her desk, floating toward the ground.

Carly jumped out of her seat. “I'm so sorry,” she said. “I'm such a klutz.”

Anthony nudged my arm, waiting for me to pass the reports ahead. He followed my gaze toward the back of the room. “Yeah,” Anthony said. “She's got it bad for him.”

“You think?” I asked.

“No doubt,” he said, passing the stack of papers forward. “She started wearing makeup, she changed her hair. And the glasses thing—it's a dead giveaway.”

“Hmm,” I said, surprised by Anthony's acute observations.

“Poor girl,” Anthony whispered. “He'll break her heart.”

“Why would you say that?” I asked.

Anthony gave me an incredulous look. “Come on, Emily. Guys like Ethan don't date girls like Carly.”

“Why?” I said quickly. “Because he's a big-time basketball star and she's unpopular and a little, ya know, pudgy?”

“Pretty much.”

I sighed. “That is so wrong, though. What if she's really nice? Maybe he could actually like her for who she is,” I said, my voice rising despite myself. I wasn't sure why I was coming to her defense—I'd barely met her.

“You and I both know nice is not enough,” Anthony said, matter-of-fact.

“Would YOU date her?” I asked with a touch of hostility I hadn't meant to show.

“Why, because I'm not as popular as Ethan, it would be acceptable?”

“No, I'm asking if you would date someone who was maybe average looking but had a good personality?” I asked, trying to control my sudden anger at the situation.

“Why are you getting so mad? You don't even know her.”

Why was I getting mad? It was true, I didn't know her. My mind was spinning. Back in Pennsylvania, while I wasn't unpopular and I had never been overweight, I always felt like I just blended in. I remembered what it felt like to sit on the sidelines and wait to be noticed. Now in New York, with Jolie's makeup and Trent's hairstyle, I was embraced by the popular crowd and pursued by a very popular boy. But I couldn't help but wonder if we were back in Pennsylvania, would Owen even give me a second glance?

I leaned over and whispered in Anthony's ear. “What if Carly weighed less, and had a mini-makeover? Look at her—she really could be pretty with a little help. Or is she still not dateable because she's not popular?”

“Wow, are you like bipolar, or do I just bring out the crazy in you?” Anthony started laughing.

“Mr. Rucelli?” Mrs. Klein said. “Would you like to share with the class what's so funny?”

Anthony turned his head back toward the front of the room. “What's so funny,” he said, deadpan, “is how a girl can go from pleasant to pissed off faster than a Porsche can go zero to sixty.”

All eyes fell on me.

Mrs. Klein smiled. “Well, Mr. Rucelli, as my husband says, that is what sets us women apart from men: violent mood swings and neediness.”

The class laughed.

I jabbed Anthony in the back with the cap of my pen and knew he was smiling.

After Mrs. Klein dismissed us, Anthony and I walked down the hallway together. All the talk of popularity reminded me of the thoughts I'd been having for weeks now.

“Hey,” I said tentatively. “How come I never see you at lunch?”

“I eat in the library,” he answered with no shame.

“Why?” I tried not to sound judgmental.

He shrugged as we turned the corner. “I do my homework at lunch so when I get home from school, I have time to chill. I go to bed early since I get up so early.”

We stopped at my maroon-colored locker and I turned toward him.

“Don't you worry that people could make fun of you?”

“Do you honestly think people are tracking my lunchtime rituals?” He chuckled. “And if they are, who cares?”

I care,
I thought as I opened my locker to throw some books in. But Anthony just shrugged again, unaffected by other people's opinions. My stomach dropped knowing that even though I might enjoy Anthony's company more, I'd rather sit and listen to never-ending recounts of modeling jobs and horseback lessons than worry that my classmates were mocking me.

“Hey,” Owen said, walking up to me from the other side. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

“Really?” I asked, smiling. My heart skipped a beat.

Owen leaned against the metal locker next to mine. God, he looked all sparkly and perfect.

“I had a really good time Saturday,” Owen said.

“You did?” My heart continued to thump. I tried to lick my lips. “Um, I had a great time too. Thanks for showing up.”
Thanks for showing up?!

If he thought I was an idiot, he didn't let on. Owen reached over and gently touched my arm. It was a simple gesture, but it sent my heart drumming to a techno beat.

He smiled. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to my swim meet next week? Andi comes a lot to watch Aidan, so you guys could come together.”

Owen started laughing.

Oops, did I say that out loud?
Make an exit before you humiliate yourself any more!

“I'd love to go,” I said. “Thanks.” I turned to walk to my next class.

I looked for Anthony to finish our conversation, but he had walked on without me.

 

“HONEY, I'M HOME,”
I called as I practically skipped through the front door of the apartment that afternoon. “How was your day? Mine was blissfully wonderfully awesome!” I'd been grinning pretty much nonstop since the encounter with Owen at my locker. I had immediately told Lindsay about it, who said she'd come to the swim meet next week too and we could head over to her place afterward.

“It was fine. I styled Cameron today,” Jolie answered from the other room as I threw my book bag on the floor.

I walked into the living room.
“Diaz?”
I opened the takeout box on the coffee table and grimaced. Falafel. I hated falafel.

“Yes, Cameron Diaz, for a
Vogue
shoot. She's hilarious; she ripped the butt of her pants and had to borrow mine when she left. Not even kidding,” Jolie said, coming out of her studio.

“Cameron Diaz wore
your pants
?” I laughed as I poked at a falafel ball with my finger.

“Yeah, only they fit her like capris.” Jolie grabbed the remote and flipped through a few channels, still standing behind the couch. “So I, uh, got a call today. The house sold.”

I dropped the carton, caught off guard.

Suddenly the entire noisy city seemed to go silent, from the cabs honking and sirens usually racing down the block to the little yappy dog in the building next door. It was just dead quiet.

Jolie cleared her throat. “
Your
house. It actually sold a few weeks ago, but the deal finally went through . . .” She didn't make eye contact with me. “Since your parents had no surviving relatives, you're the solitary heir.” Jolie still didn't look at me. “I put the money in a trust fund for you.”

I stared at Jolie and then at the TV, feeling empty, numb. My high from the day totally vanished—as far away as my childhood home seemed now. As far away as my childhood itself. I didn't know how to feel.

After a couple hours of staring at the television and nibbling halfheartedly at the takeout, I dialed Georgia. She was silent at first, and somehow I just knew she knew why I was calling.

“The new family moved in a couple days ago.” She sighed. “I wasn't sure if I should tell you. They put an American flag on your front porch and garden gnomes in the shrubs.”

“Garden gnomes?” For some reason, it hadn't seemed real until she'd said
garden gnomes
. They made it seem so . . . final. The whole world I'd grown up with all my life—everything I'd known up to the tragedy—replaced with the new.

Replaced with garden gnomes.

“LOOK,” ANDI SAID,
pointing to where a group of guys in green swimsuits and caps emerged from a locker room. “There they are.” Andi, Lindsey, and I had climbed into the stands at one end of the Olympic-size swimming pool in the Darlington Athletic Center. It was one block away from the school in an enormous facility that housed an indoor track, a basketball court, a gymnastics area, and then the huge pool. The humid air smelled strongly of chlorine, and the cream-tiled walls were damp with perspiration. The dark skinny jeans I'd changed into after school stuck to the backs of my legs. Suddenly, the black cashmere hoodie sweater Jolie had bought me to survive the late October chill didn't seem as smart an outfit choice as I'd thought either.

I watched as Aidan scanned the crowd, his eyes shifting up and finding us. He waved. Aidan nudged Owen, who looked up at us, nodded, and grinned.

I caught my breath, noticing Owen's body was a perfect, athletic V: strong, bulky shoulders tapering to a trim and sculpted waist.

The team members swimming in the free-style race climbed onto their platforms and crouched into ready position. The muscles of Owen's back contracted in anticipation. God, he was toned.

The shrill whistle blew, and the swimmers sprang into the water and began their laps. As they swam, I thought back to Pleasant Meadows Summer Camp, where Georgia had dragged me over the summer between sixth and seventh grade. I'd thrown a fit because swimming lessons were required, and they forced me to remove my sneakers. Several of the kids had made fun of my toes, and when I returned home crying, Mom had simply laughed and told me to be thankful for the things that make us each unique. She told me that keeping my w eird-o toes a secret would just make things harder.

“He won! He won!” Lindsey clapped, jolting me from my memories.

“What?” I turned my head.

Andi waved, jingling her two sterling silver bangles. I'd never seen her look so eager. “Did you see that?” she said, tugging at the sleeve of my hoodie. “He was totally checking to make sure you saw him win.” Andi sat back down with a perplexed look on her otherwise perfect face. “I just don't get it. He seems really into you—but no kiss, and it's been, what—almost a week since your date?” She made air quotes when she said
date.
“And he hasn't called or texted you once?”

“No,” I said, suddenly feeling on the defensive.

“Maybe,” Lindsey said, pushing back her now-layered dark locks from her face, “he just doesn't want to move too fast.”