Maine Squeeze (51 page)

Grant and I had lunch today. He asked how I was doing (fine, considering I had no job), whether I was going to the big Lebeau Christmas party tomorrow night (yes), and what I had planned for tonight.

I felt this utter panic. He wasn't asking me to lunch anymore. He was asking me to do stuff outside of school. He was asking for a date. Tonight! And I couldn't go. I liked him too much.

“Nothing,” I said. “I mean—because I have to work for Beth.”

Then he asked if I wanted to go skiing over Christmas vacation.

“I can't,” I said. “We're not supposed to fraternize, right? You're still investigating us.”

“We'll be on vacation,” Grant said. “I won't be thinking about your case. It should be wrapped up by then anyway.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Sure. So do you want to go?”

“Well, um, I don't ski much,” I said. “It's bad for the environment.”

“Snow is bad for the environment?”

“Driving up to the mountains is. There's so much traffic and then you have to go over those passes, and—”

“I'll drive. We could take the Ski Train,” Grant suggested.

He wouldn't stop.

“I actually haven't skied in a really long time,” I said. “I'm really bad, so … I'm sure I'd just hold you back.” I smiled uneasily. I knew from ski trips with Dave and his friends that Grant was the best snowboarder of all of them. “And anyway, I'll probably have to work, so …”

Right then there was this overhead page. “Courtney Smith, please report to the principal's office. Immediately.”

“Uh-oh,” I said. “I must be in big trouble—the Duck wants to see me.”

“Yeah. You must be,” Grant said. He was practically glowering at me. What did I do? Just because I didn't want to go skiing—

But I did want to go skiing. But I can't! I can't like Grant. It won't work out.

The Duck asked if I'd seen Tom that day. I hadn't. Then she said that our final meeting, our New Year's party—everything—is off. There will be no Random Nosebleed or even a planned nosebleed.

Six checks we used to pay for the party bounced. The student council fund is completely empty. We have no money left!

Jane and Beth and I met at 10:00 to go Christmas shopping and to buy outfits for upcoming parties like the big one at the Lebeau Mansion tonight. We spent about three hours cruising around the mall—didn't find anything.

“The mall is so bad compared to Discount Duds,” Jane said as she trotted around in somebody else's used crinkled black boots. Her outfit was vintage from head to toe. And she was wearing this plastic watch she got for free from the Complete gas station.

She kind of dresses like she's in a band now, and maybe she should be. It's weird, though, hearing Jane say she hates the mall. Talk about a turnaround. Her parents are horrified.

Then we went to a department store cafe where Jane could charge lunch to her parents' plastic, just to let them know she hasn't changed
that
much. I finally told them what had happened with Grant. They nearly fell off their chairs.

“So Grant asked you out. Wow. I don't think Grant's asked out anyone in like … a year,” Jane said. She adjusted her bubble-gum color plastic glasses.
She
can wear them. She can wear anything. “Not since Beth broke his heart.”

“I didn't break his heart,” Beth said. “I wounded him slightly. I didn't know he was going to be so sensitive about it.”

I knew Beth's angle on the whole thing. I wanted to know Jane's. “How do you know he hasn't gone out with anyone else?” I asked.

“It's obvious.” She shrugged. “I thought he was still pining for Beth, but obviously he's been saving himself for you. And then you go and say
no
. Why?”

“Because. I told you, I'm not seeing anyone this year.”

“Why? Because of Dave?” Jane asked. “Who you haven't talked to in a really long time and who has a girlfriend and who you're basically completely over now?”

“You're letting Dave ruin your senior year!” Beth said.

“
Our
senior year,” Jane said. “This affects all of us. At first I thought your no-dating pledge was sort of cute. Now I think it's ridiculous. Remember me when I was so shortsighted that I wouldn't even shop anywhere but at the mall? I gave that up. You can give up not dating.”

“And I gave up running from love,” Beth said. “Having meaningless relationships instead of a real connection with someone. Plus smoking. And now I'm giving up gum. So if we can do all that, I think you can consider going
skiing
with
Grant
.”

“You guys!” I said. I was drowning in a shower of criticism. “We're not talking about giving up matching handbags and—and—Marlboro Ultra Lights. And as far as this running-from-love bit, we don't
all
have to date—”

“Just to date? No, of course not,” Beth said. “But when you find someone—”

“Who says I've found someone?”

“You just did! It's Grant, and you know it.” Beth's eyebrow was twitching. Either she's been watching too much TV and has eyestrain or she was getting extremely annoyed with me. “But you're so caught up in sticking to some plan, like you've ever stuck to any of your plans!”

“What? What are you saying?”

All the lady shoppers were staring at us.

“Quit making pledges you can't keep,” Beth said. “About campaigns, about food, about boys—about everything!” Then she stood up, tossed her linen napkin onto the table, and went to the bathroom. Too bad she was wearing black pants, because she had a ton of lint on her pants now and looked sort of silly, and everyone was still staring at us.

I pulled my chair closer to the table and sipped my lemon water. “I keep pledges,” I told Jane. “I'm
good
at pledges. Like the Pledge of Allegiance. In second grade I was chosen to say it on Parents' Day.”

“We're not talking about the
flag
,” Jane said. “We're talking about your life.”

“My life is fine,” I said.

The way I see it, I'm the only one with any integrity. I'm the only one who's kept up her standards. Why does everyone
have
to date? I mean, what is so wrong with being by yourself once in a while, or all the time even?

Except for the fact that it's sort of boring, and I would so like to see Grant on a snowboard.

This is Courney's jrnl. My writing. I'm drunk. Me, Alson, the oldes mos responsbl one.

Is it my fault the punch at the Lebeaus' was spiked? Mr. Lebeau said it was Santa's elfs. Elves. Whatever. I know who didit.

Mr. Lebeau wants to fix me up with his son Mark. Like I'd like Mark. I'm in love with Jessie. And nobody here knows anything about it.

Mom is outside arguing with a man on a telfon pole. Don't knowhy. Courtney do you?

yes, definitely, whatever you say Alison

I love Dave

tom doesn't have a thing for me, but I kissed him anyway

I hate Mrs. Malloy's cookies

I hate Martha Stewart

where is lake superior?

In Canada, stupid
.

Happy Holidays
,

love
,

alison

Complete nightmare. I can hardly write, my hand is so shaky. “You're hungover!” Alison cried, jumping on my bed. “Isn't it cool?”

“
No
,” I said, before running to the bathroom to hurl.

Then the doorbell rang. At the same time, I heard this teensy tiny baby crying. Could it be any louder?

Alison and I crawled downstairs. It's
Dad
. And Sophia. And Sophia's kid, Angelina. And Angelina's new baby. They just drove up from Phoenix.

I guess I knew Dad is now a granddad (which means this baby's
great
-grandparents are having Viagra-induced sex and that's totally disturbing) (or wait, that's the other side of the family—am I still drunk?), but it still seems very bizarre. He was so excited to see us. He gave me a huge hug. And I'm really glad he's here, don't get me wrong. But when he hugged me I knew right away I was going to hurl again. But he wouldn't let go, and Alison was in on it, too, of course
she
doesn't have a throbbing headache and the seasick feeling I got when I went rafting on my 14th birthday and got my period in the middle of the Arkansas and had to turn the full-day rafting trip into a half day. I wanted to put myself into a dry bag.

Anyway, Mom was out shopping for food, so Sophia came running after me when I sprinted to the bathroom. I told her to go away—that Alison could take care of me. But Alison was busy talking to Angelina and playing with the baby. Whatever her name is. So I spent some quality time with the dry heaves. Now I'm lying on my bed. Mom will be home soon, and then all hell will break loose.

I have to hand it to her, actually. The woman has nerves of steel, inviting Dad and his new family to her house. I can't even handle seeing Dave at a party.

Speaking of which, I still have to write down what happened at the Lebeau Mansion.

Alison is so different! She confessed to me that
she
was the one who spiked the punch. Very impressive. As long as we were all walking to the party, I guess it's okay. She kept talking about some guy named Jesse. She was so lit she even spelled his name wrong in here.

What a night. I still can't get over it. I don't know what to do.

Everyone was there. I mean, the place was so crowded, full of everyone I know from school and their parents. Alison and I went together, sort of late. She immediately headed for the punch bowl. That skinny Mark Lebeau made a beeline for
me
. So I looked around and saw Beth and Jane. They were talking to Grant!

I kind of panicked. I hadn't
seen
Grant since turning him down a few days ago. And Jane and Beth were probably telling him to ask me out again, encouraging him to like wear me down. The fact he was even talking to Beth again was weird. I wanted to go home. But the crowd pushed me forward, a surge for the fruitcake and eggnog table.

I ended up right in front of them. They were in the middle of telling him how I've decided to be a nun this year. But the way they said it made it sound incredibly stupid instead of brilliant.

“Look, here comes Sister Courtney,” they teased me.

“Shut up,” I said, not meeting Grant's eyes.

“You look incredible—for a nun,” Jane said. “Love that green velveteen. Totally matches your eyes.”

“Um, thanks,” I said. Don't draw attention to me! I thought. We want Grant to think I'm unattractive, so he can move on, forget about me, quit asking me out.

Because it's going to mess everything up for me if he keeps asking, because I don't know how many no's I have in reserve.

I glanced at him. He looked really cute, he had a tie on and everything. He was looking around the room, not at me. Perfect, I thought. Then he said, “So, Courtney. Do you want to get some punch?”

“Ah, well, ah,” I stammered. Beth grabbed my arm and shoved me toward Grant. It was like we were in junior high again. “Sure.”

So we went over to the punch bowl. Alison was there, which was great. We hung out with her, laughing, and she kept filling our glasses and we kept drinking punch—only because it was so crowded and hot in there, not because I knew it was spiked, honestly. When we thought about moving, we couldn't, because of the crowd. So there I was, trapped with Grant.

Mom came over to get punch and we laughed with her. Grant's parents came over, and I met them (have no idea what their names are now). Off in the distance I could see Bryan and Beth, cuddling on a sofa by the fire. “They're so cute!” I said to Alison. Getting a little tipsy, so I loved everyone.

“I'm so glad Bryan found someone,” Alison said.

Then I looked over at Grant. Was he still pining for Beth? Did seeing her with my little brother give him a jealous fit?

“Your brother's a really good runner,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “He's
so
good.”

Then I had to find the bathroom, so Alison went with me. We were wandering around the party, and I was feeling a bit dizzy. The Tom waved to me from across the dining room and I was just about to stop and say hello when I saw Dave come around the corner. PANIC!

I hadn't seen him since that awkward day in Boulder when he yelled at me. I hadn't talked to him since then, either. But I knew one thing. I was
not
about to let him see me being Sister Courtney.

I'll show him, I thought. He's not the only one who can move on and grow!