Mia the Magnificent (12 page)

Unable to stomach any more insipid similes, I slammed on the brakes and turned the steering wheel all the way to the left. The car skidded over the curb and landed with a thud facing the crowd. Pressing my foot on the gas, I peeled down the street and braced myself for the worst. But the chicken and his gaggle of friends jumped out of the way, and within seconds, we were free. We hadn’t ruffled a single feather.

“Woo-ee! That move was gooder than grits! We lost ’em!” Mr. Corrigan hollered as he looked over his shoulder. “I ain’t never seen nobody drive like that except for the one time my pappy had to high-tail it outta the driveway when he trashed my momma’s cookin’. And anybody who drives like my pappy can’t be all bad.
You passed driver’s ed, Mia!”

Too worked up to answer, I simply smiled from ear to ear. Between this and Tim’s humiliation, today definitely ranked as one of the best days of my life.

On Friday night, after the presents had been opened, the cake and ice cream eaten, and my friends gone home, I went outside to shoot a few baskets to celebrate. Even though I had just suffered through the lamest birthday party ever, my life was still pretty good. I was sixteen, and starting tomorrow morning, I would finally be set free on the road of life.

As I shot a few free throws to warm up, Tim cut across his backyard. “Not bad ball-playing,” he called out. “For an old lady.”

“Can’t you ever stay inside your own house?” I said, dribbling the ball.

“You know I’m like the wind,” Tim said, “always blowing from here to there.”

“There’s definitely some hot air blowing around here,” I said, “but it’s coming from your mouth.”

Tim took the ball from my hands and hit an easy jump shot. As the ball bounced back to the pavement, he asked, “So, when are you going to pay up?”

“I can see that your mouth is moving, but as usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, grabbing the ball and driving toward the basket.

“I’m talking about the bet,” Tim said, suddenly playing aggressive defense. “Remember a few weeks ago when Chris and I beat you and Kevin in basketball? The bet was, the losers had to chauffeur the winners around after we got our licenses? And since today’s your birthday—”

“Oh, yeah, thanks for the present,” I said as I faked left and went right, taking the ball to the basket.

“You’re welcome.” Tim watched the ball slide through the net. “I knew you’d like it. Who doesn’t like a Chia Pet? It’s fun, easy, and makes a great gift.”

“And they’re only $3.99 at the drugstore,” I added.

“Yeah, well,” Tim said with a shrug, “I’m kind of on a budget.”

“More like you’re cheap.”

“That, too,” Tim said as he rebounded the ball. “I was going to make you a card to go with it that said, ‘Sweet sixteen and never been kissed,’ but since we both know that isn’t true—”

“But it’s still better than you—foul fifteen and never been missed.”

“Nice one,” Tim said, lining up his shot. “Anyway, there’s that
Three Stooges
Festival playing at a theater downtown tomorrow afternoon, and I thought—”

“No way,” I said, blocking Tim’s shot. “I am not going to spend my first afternoon with a driver’s license watching a bunch of guys poke each other in the eye.”

“Oh, a wise guy, eh?” Tim dropped the ball, grabbed me in a head-lock, and gave me a noogie. “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.”

“Let go!” I screamed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Sointenly,” Tim said, pretending to poke me in the eyes, “but only if you agree to take us to the
Three Stooges
Festival. Now, quiet, you numbskull! Because if there’s anything I like better than honey and ketchup, it’s baloney and whipped cream! And we haven’t got any.”

“All right!” I screamed. “I surrender! If you stop quoting the Three Stooges, I’ll take you.”

“I thought we’d come to an understanding,” Tim said as he released me. “I’ll be at your house tomorrow at three.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t wait.”

“Where’s Kevin?” I asked Tim the moment he arrived at my doorstep the next afternoon.

“Basketball tournament,” Tim replied. “Where’s Chris?”

“One of his idiot friends got a new video game—something to do with playing the electric guitar while killing aliens,” I said. “He said he’d rather be with them than spend a day with me.”

Tim leaned in closer to me. “It’s just you and me this afternoon? How does Eric feel about that?”

“I keep telling you, I’m not dating Eric. We’re just friends—who made out a couple of times.”

“Thanks for the unnecessary information,” Tim said.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked,” I said.

As I picked up the car keys, I felt an indescribable thrill. It had taken hours of pleading to get my parents to let me drive by myself this afternoon, but all the groveling was worth it. The weight of the keys in my hand was like holding the Holy Grail—only better. The Holy Grail only healed all wounds. A set of car keys meant instantaneous freedom, which was way more important.

“I hope you’re not planning on driving as slow as you did in driver’s ed,” Tim said. “The first movie is going to start soon and I don’t want to miss any of it.”

“The first movie?” I asked, grabbing my purse. “As in, there’s more than one?”

“Yeah, there’s ten of them.”

“What?” I asked, whirling around so fast my purse went flying into the air like a launched missile, smacking Tim in the head.

“Ow!” Tim rubbed the spot where it hit. “I told you this was a festival. It’s four hours.”

Four hours of the Stooges? That was enough to make me want to poke my own eyes out.

“Come on,” Tim said as he bit into a greasy taco on the way home from the theater. “Admit it. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.”

“No, it was worse.” I pulled a napkin from the fast food bag and handed it to him. “And don’t get any grease on the seat of my dad’s car.”

Tim wiped the smattering of oil dribbling off his chin. “I know you liked it because I saw you laughing.”

“I wasn’t laughing. I was gagging,” I said. “I mean, how can you watch that stuff? It’s so stupid.”

“Woo, woo, woo, woo,” Tim said, waving his fingers at me. “What’s the big idea, eh? The Stooges are perfect.”

“You’re a perfect idiot,” I said, pushing his hand out of my face. “Now, leave me alone. I need to concentrate on driving. My parents made me swear to be home by eight, and if you keep bugging me, I’ll be late. And I don’t want to lose my driving privileges the same day I got them.”

“Man,” Tim said, crumpling up the empty wrapper and throwing it in the bag, “Stooges and tacos—what a wonderful combination.”

“Yeah, one gives you a migraine and the other indigestion,” I said, checking to make sure I was still going the speed limit. “A wonderful combination of pain.”

“I don’t care what you say,” Tim said. “I know you had fun. You were totally getting into the part where Curly said, ‘Slowly I turned... step by step... inch by inch,’ and then he yelled, ‘Niagara Falls!’ and got pummeled by Moe and Larry.”

“OK.” I cracked a smile. “That was kind of funny.”

“How about when they went golfing?” Tim asked.

“And rolled the barrels down the hill?” I said. “That was kind of funny, too.”

“There may be hope for you yet,” Tim said, sitting back in his seat. “You just keep hanging out with me, and I’ll teach you the finer things in life.”

“I said they were kind of funny,” I replied with a roll of the eyes. “I didn’t say I liked them.”

“OK, then,” Tim said. “What would you have chosen to do if you’d won the bet? Which would never have happened, by the way.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I guarantee it wouldn’t have been spending four hours watching men hit each other with a hammer. It would be something quieter, like going to a nice restaurant or watching a movie that actually makes sense.”

“The kinds of things Eric would do with you?”

“What Eric and I would do together is none of your business,” I replied as I checked my rearview mirror for the millionth time.

“You’re right,” Tim said, turning his face toward the window. “I don’t want to know what you and Eric would do on a date.”

Awkward silence spread through the car like a scratchy wool blanket, smothering us in an uncomfortable heaviness. Unable to take the tension anymore, I said, “So, are Alyssa and Cassie still mad at you?”

“I don’t know. Does filling my locker with dog poop constitute still being mad?”

“Yeah, they might be a little ticked,” I said, feeling slightly guilty that I was the one who had given them his locker number.

“It’s probably for the best,” Tim said. “The only thing I had in common with either of them was that we all really liked me.”

I shook my head. “If your head got any bigger, it wouldn’t fit in the car.”

“I’m just being honest,” Tim said. “I can’t help it if I’m so handsome and charming that every girl I meet falls in love with me.”

Stopping at a red light, I dared to take my eyes off the road to look at him. “You know, I was hoping that being humiliated by two girls dumping you at the same time would make you realize you’re not all that great.”

Tim grinned. “If that’s true, then how come you still like me?”

“I do not still like you.” The light turned green and I pressed
harder on the accelerator than I meant to. “I don’t know why you keep saying that!”

“I wasn’t so sure a month ago, but after that kiss, I knew you still wanted me.” Tim crumpled up his fast food bag. “And I really don’t care that Cassie and Alyssa broke up with me, because now you and I can get back together.”

Though my heart briefly fluttered, I tried to ignore the feeling. I’d been down this road too many times with Tim. Unlike Eve, I had to stay strong and resist temptation—no matter how good that apple looked.

“You must be deaf,” I said, straightening my shoulders, “because we keep having the same conversation over and over again. So this time, I’m going to use some basic sign language to make myself clear.” I took one hand off the wheel and said, while signing, “T-i-m, you and I”—I pointed at him and me—“will never, ever, ever, ever, ever get back together.”

“Your hands say no, but your eyes say yes,” Tim replied in his most ridiculous Casanova voice. He grabbed my hand and held it to his lips.

I yanked my hand away. “That is the cheesiest line I have ever heard.”

“Hey,” Tim said with a shrug, “it was worth a try.”

“I wish you would drop the ‘we should get back together’ thing,” I said. “I mean, it didn’t work the first time, and it’s not going to work now. Besides, I’m just starting to get over my utter hatred of you. Maybe we can be friends again, okay?”

“Let’s make a deal,” Tim said, apparently ignoring me. “If you can look me in the eyes and honestly tell me you no longer have any feelings for me, I will never again talk about us getting back together.”

I glanced at him for a millisecond. “I don’t have feelings for you. There, it’s done.”

“No way,” Tim said. “You need to really look at me when you say it.”

I sighed. “The Treaty of Versailles didn’t require this many rounds of negotiations.”

“If I’m going to give up trying to get you back, you need to give up three seconds of your time and really look at me to tell me you don’t want me anymore.”