Mia the Magnificent (19 page)

“If that’s the look you were going for,” I said, not believing Mike didn’t use this opportunity to tell Lisa that he and Mandy had broken up, “then you definitely missed.”

“At least I wore a costume tonight. Do your parents know you’re walking around half—or should I say more than half—naked?” Tim asked. “If Father Carlos saw you right now, he’d send you directly to a convent.”

“I don’t need Father Carlos’s or my parents’ permission for what I wear,” I replied haughtily.

“Which is an utter lie,” Chris said. “Mia totally waited until Mom and Dad left before she put on that costume, and they are going to kill her when they find out she pierced her belly button.”

“That thing is real?” Tim jumped out of his chair and raced over to me. As he leaned in and closely studied my exposed abdomen, his nose brushed against my skin. “Holy cow! It
is
real! When did you get your belly button pierced?”

A familiar voice rang out from above, and unfortunately, it wasn’t God’s. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Father Carlos!” I exclaimed, shoving Tim’s face away from my bare belly and onto the floor. “What brings you here?”

Unsticking himself from the layers of spilled lemonade and sweetened coffee that had accumulated onto the floor over the years, Tim asked, “Yeah, it’s so weird seeing you here. We were just talking about you.”

“Unless the image of the Virgin Mary suddenly appeared on Ms. Fullerton’s stomach, I can’t imagine why you were talking about me at that particular moment,” Father Carlos dryly remarked.

“What Tim meant was that we were just talking about what a great teacher you are and how lucky St. Hilary’s is to have you,” Lisa said, coming to the rescue. “And then you appeared out of nowhere.”

“I’m here because Rick, the owner of the Flying Squirrel, invited
me,” Father Carlos explained. “We’re old high school friends, so when he told me there was a girl coming to the concert tonight with only a few weeks to live, I thought it might be a nice gesture if I showed up to see if she needed any spiritual guidance. I even brought a couple of kids from my eighth-grade confirmation group so they could meet this girl, and perhaps do some volunteer work to help her live as comfortably as possible during the next few weeks.”

“Really?” I squeaked. Grabbing a handful of napkins and placing them strategically across my body, I made a feeble attempt to save myself. “What a sad story. I wish I could meet this girl.”

“That’s funny,” Father Carlos said as his priestly, all-knowing eyes bore into mine, “because I thought you already
did
know her. When I got here, my friend said she was sitting right at this very table. So, if she’s sitting with you, I would think she was a friend of yours.”

“Um.” I gulped, picturing the devil rubbing his greedy hands together at the thought of adding my soul to his collection. “You see—”

“He even said she was in a wheelchair,” Father Carlos continued, “and wearing a morbid fairy tale costume.”

I stammered, almost feeling Satan’s pitchfork poking me, “Uh, I, well—”

“How odd there would be two girls in wheelchairs wearing the same costume and sitting at the same table,” Father Carlos said. “After all, there have to be two girls, because I very well know you’re not suffering from a fatal illness. I also know that any student of mine would never try to get free drinks and preferential seating by telling such an awful lie.”

I blinked my eyes rapidly as tears of Irish Catholic shame appeared on the tips of my false eyelashes. And just as I was about to confess everything I’d ever done or thought about doing during my entire life, Zoë said, “OK, Padre, You can lay off the guilt trip now. It wasn’t Preppy’s idea. I’m the one who told Rick she was dying. I just wanted to get Princess here a good seat so she could hear me play
tonight. Rick’s the one who offered us free drinks. We didn’t want to offend him by turning him down.”

Father Carlos turned toward Zoë, and a flicker of recognition passed over his face. “Are you Zoë Franz, the lead singer from the Barf Bags?”

“Whoa! Can all priests do that?” Zoë asked, elbowing me in the ribs. “Like, tell who you are just by looking at you?”

A small smile crossed Father Carlos’s lips. “Priests aren’t clairvoyant, but a few of them do recognize good music when they hear it.”

“You know my band?” Zoë asked.

“I was in a band in college. I like going out to listen to local talent every now and then,” said Father Carlos. “Your voice is one of the best I’ve heard in a while. And since I’m such a fan, maybe I can even go easy on you kids tonight.”

I couldn’t believe it. Zoë was going to be my ticket out of eternal damnation?

“Why don’t we make a deal?” said Father Carlos. “You pay for all the drinks Rick has already given you and promise to never do anything like this again, and I won’t let him throw you out. That way, my confirmation students and I can stay and listen to some good music, and you won’t spend the night in a juvenile detention center. What do you say?”

Zoë narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to make me go into one of those little boxes and confess, are you?”

“Are you Catholic?” Father Carlos asked.

“No,” Zoë replied.

“Then you’re off the hook.” Father Carlos turned back toward me and said, “But you’re not, Ms. Fullerton. I fully expect to see you in the confessional first thing Monday morning.”

Placing one last napkin across my chest, I despaired. The way things were going, I’d be saying Hail Marys not only for the rest of my life, but until the end of time.

After about an hour, I was wishing that Father Carlos had actually thrown us out, because I’d had about all I could take of the Smelly Farts. Not only were they loud and unpleasant, but they stunk to high heaven. Plus, Mike still hadn’t told Lisa about his and Mandy’s breakup, so the tension between them was unbearable.

When, thankfully, the Smelly Farts eked out their last note, I heaved a giant sigh of relief. Zoë leaned over to me and said, “You know, the music kind of sucked, but there’s something about that guy I like.”

“Which guy are you talking about?” I asked as I rubbed my ears, hoping the screeching in my head would eventually fade to a dull roar.

“I’m talking about Jake,” Zoë said, punching me on the shoulder. “Never dated the dumb, hot type.”

“Jake?” I asked, thinking it
would
be kind of cool to see what all of Jake’s excess spit would do to Zoë’s lip piercings over time. Maybe I could do a science project on it for extra credit. “Go for it.”

“Maybe I will,” Zoë said as Jake’s band cleared the stage.

“Yowza!” Chris shouted, staring over my shoulder. “Look at that!”

Turning to see where Chris was looking, I forced myself to refrain from calling out “Yowza” myself, as Cassie sashayed toward us wearing a Little Bo Peep costume that made my Little Dead Riding Hood outfit look modest by comparison.

“What’s she doing here?” Alyssa asked.

“How would I know?” Tim replied. “Maybe she heard about it at school like we did.”

“Or maybe you told her?” Alyssa asked with more than a hint of suspicion.

“Who cares how she found out?” Chris said as Cassie moved through the crowd, using her crook to poke anyone who got in her way. “Let’s all take a moment to say a prayer of thanks that she’s here.”

“Oh, look, it’s a Losers R Us convention,” Cassie said as she walked over to our table and eyed Alyssa and me. “And the two leaders of the club are in attendance.”

“If you’re looking for your lost sheep,” I said as I scanned her skimpy costume, “I can tell you at least one place they’re not hiding.”

Ignoring my remark, Cassie motioned to the guy in the headdress standing next to her. “You all know Nick Koonce, right? He’s the quarterback of the varsity football team. You know, a senior?”

“How,” Nick said, holding up his hand in greeting. “Get it? I’m dressed as an Indian? How?”

Lisa squirmed in her seat. “Actually, the term is Native American,” she said. “It’s even better to call each person by their tribe name. And saying ‘how’ is a stereotypical and racist way to portray the people inhabiting this land before the Anglo-Saxons.”

“I was just trying to be funny,” Nick said glumly, pulling off his headdress as Eric reached for his buzzing cell phone.

“No way!” Eric exclaimed, looking at his phone. “I just got a text message from the community theater director of
Jesus Christ Superstar.
Their Jesus came down with the flu mid-show and because their understudy already has the flu, he wants me to get down there right away.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Zoë asked. “Get out of here!”

“But what about Mia and Chris?” Eric asked, already grabbing his coat.

“Don’t worry about us,” I said. “Go!”

“Yeah, you should definitely get out of here,” said Tim. “Mia can
come home with me tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Alyssa said.

“Sorry,” Tim replied, a slight edge to his voice. “I meant to say that Mike can give Mia and Chris a ride home with me
and
you tonight.”

“But that’s not what you said,” Alyssa said with the same slight edge.

“Remind me to catch up on all this teen angst later.” Zoë picked up her guitar and headed for the stage. “Right now, I have a gig to play. Eric, get lost. You don’t want to miss this chance.”

“Are you sure?” Eric looked at me.

“Yes,” I replied. “Chris and I will be fine. Now get going, or else you’ll be late. Call me later and let me know how it went.”

“You’re the best,” Eric said, giving me a peck on the cheek before taking off through the crowd.

Cassie rolled her eyes as she and Nick settled into Eric and Zoë’s now vacant seats. “And so ends another episode of
Dorks in Love.”

“All right, you punks, we’re going to slow it down a bit so you can do some major body-pressing,” Zoë announced into the microphone as her band brought the tempo down a few hundred beats.

Alyssa grabbed Tim’s hand. “Let’s dance.”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Tim said.

“He’s right,” Cassie and I said in unison.

“Awkward,” Chris said as he filled up his glass with lemonade.

Brushing off Chris’s remark, I looked at the miserable expressions etched on the faces of Mike and Lisa. This was ridiculous and it was time for me to do something about it. After all, just because my love life was nonexistent didn’t mean everyone’s had to be.

I cleared my throat. “Mike, Lisa has been working on an equation
for the past couple of months and I was wondering if you could help her with it.”

Lisa sat straight up in her chair. “Mia, what are you doing?”

“Sure,” Mike replied. “What’s the equation?”

“It’s not really an equation at all. It’s more like a problem,” I said, turning a blind eye to Lisa’s desperate attempts to get me to shut up. “It seems Lisa can’t get over her feelings for you. She’s tried everything, but no matter what she does, she still likes you.”

The color drained from Lisa’s face as she stared at me. “Mia, how could you?”

“Lisa,” I replied, “it’s OK. Mike and Mandy broke up. He still likes you, too.”

“It is certainly not OK!” Lisa exclaimed. “How dare you—wait, did you just say Mike and Mandy broke up?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “we broke up a few days ago, but I probably should’ve broken up with her as soon as you came back to town. I just didn’t have the heart to do it.”

“What are you saying?” Lisa asked as the color came back to her cheeks.

“I’m saying that I never stopped liking you,” Mike said. “And I want to get back together.”

“I never stopped liking
you,”
Lisa said with an ear-to-ear grin. “And I want to get back together, too!”

“Oh my God,” Cassie said with a roll of her eyes. “This has to be the lamest night of my life. And if I don’t find someone immediately who isn’t a total dweeb, I’m going to hurl.”

Cassie hiked up her mini hoop skirt and disappeared into the crowd as Mike led Lisa to the area reserved for dancing.

Alyssa looked glumly at Nick and said, “I don’t suppose you’d like to dance with me.”

“Sure.” Nick grabbed Alyssa’s hand. Pulling her onto the packed dance area, he grunted, “Me like dance. Ugga Ugga.”