Miss Match (7 page)

“I think it’s Polo Explorer, if I remember correctly,” I say, trying not to sound too obvious. “He said something about buying it the other day.”

My sister shakes her head. “No, that’s not it. That’s the kind Kevin wears, and I’d totally recognize it. But who cares? Oh! I just thought of something. Derek told me he’s all into fixing up cars. You should call him. I’m sure he’ll figure out what’s wrong with your scooter.”

“Good idea. Will do.”

“So, what’s going on Friday night?” I ask as she pulls up the driveway and sets the emergency brake.

“A party.”

“Oh? Where?” I unbuckle my seat belt.

“Why? Did you want to go? I could maybe get you on the list.”

“There’s a list?”

“Well, it’s at Ruffalo’s. You know, he lives in a gated community and everything.”

“Wow. Okay. I mean, if you think it would be all right. I’d love to go.”

“I’ll just have Kevin leave your name at the gate. But you’ll want to get your scooter fixed or ride with Yas or something, ’cause I’m going with Kevin. It’s a date.” She grabs her backpack and hops out.

I hop out too. “Okay, cool.” Not cool, but at least I’ll be there to run some more interference. And I’ve got to get some offense going, before Derek outright misses his chance.

Derek! What will it take to get him to go to the party?

I go straight to my room. Through the wall I hear Maddie chitchatting away on the phone, no doubt talking to one of her friends
about the party, deciding what to wear and important stuff like that. Certain that it’s safe for me to call Derek without her hearing, I pull my cell out of my backpack.

“Derek? It’s me, Sasha.”

“Oh, hi, Sasha.” His southern drawl is even more palpable over the phone. If he weren’t transfixed with my sis, I’d probably be swooning.

“Do you have plans tomorrow night?”

After a brief pause he says, “It depends. Are you asking me out?”

My breath catches in my throat. “Er, noooo. I was just wondering if you wanted to go to a party. Everyone’s going to be there.”

“Hmmm. I’m totally confused here. You insist you’re not asking me on a date, yet this conversation bears a striking resemblance to one I had with a girl back in Texas, and lo and behold, it ended up being a
date
. A lousy one, but that’s a different story.”

“By
everyone
, I mean Maddie.”

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?” I can all but see him grinning through the phone.

“But first I need you to do me a favor.”

I ask Derek to pick me up and drive me to school so I can get my Vespa. Ten minutes later his truck pulls up the driveway,
Texas plates and all. On my way out I poke my head into Maddie’s room. Per usual, various articles of clothing are strewn from one end to the other. She’s sprawled out on her pastel-pink LoveSac, the cordless phone suctioned to her ear. When she sees me, she says, “Hang on,” into the phone, and smiles up at me.

“Derek’s going to take a look at my scooter now. See you in a bit.”

She nods, pops her gum, and picks up where she left off: “The one with the green stripes, or the sheer one with little flowers?”

As Derek reaches over to open my door for me, Maddie watches from her bedroom window, her right hand gesturing like crazy as she gabs away. Derek’s gaze fixes on her and a smile spreads across his face. I hope she can see him. He looks really cute in his faded Levi’s jacket.

“She’s on a quest to save the world, one bit of fashion advice at a time,” I explain. I’m amazed how clean it is in here. Seriously, either he just got his truck detailed or he’s a total neat freak.

Derek blinks as if he’s waking up from a dream. “So, what’s the deal with your wheels, Sasha?” He shifts the Chevy into reverse and
eases his way down to the street. This old truck is surprisingly quiet, and no bumpier than Dad’s Explorer. “Oh, nothing. I just got a ride home, so now I need a lift to pick it up.”

“And your sister wasn’t available?” he asks, steering toward the high school.

“You told her you like to fix cars, so I told her you offered to take a look at my scooter. Not that it’s broken down or anything, but it’s all in the game plan.”

He turns to me and raises an eyebrow.

“Trust me.”

“And is me going to this party Friday night ‘in the game plan’?”

I nod. “Yup. Do you need me to come look in your closet, or can I trust that you’ve got something cool to wear?”

“Do you do that for all of your clients?”

“Whatever it takes.” Not only do I get to choose an outfit I think his or her crush will especially like, but it gives me a chance to check out a client’s bedroom. Based on all sorts of studies in this area, seeing someone’s bedroom lends great insight into his or her personality.

I flip on his radio and static blasts into the cab. He reaches up to the volume knob, brushing my hand, and turns it way down.
“I haven’t gotten around to figuring out which radio stations are any good.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“Just about anything. But not country, I beg you. I’m a recovering hick-music addict, and if I hear a steel guitar, I might jump on the bandwagon again. It’s best not to risk it.”

I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. “I think I might have seen you on
Dr. Phil
the other day.”

When he smiles at me, his dimple appears on his left cheek. I hope my face isn’t as red hot as it feels. I distract myself by filling his presets with the best radio stations.

“So I assume that purple thing over there all by itself is yours?” Derek asks, his truck chugging into the student parking lot.

“Yeah. The other cars are intimidated by it.” He pulls up alongside my scooter, and I assign his last preset to my very favorite station.

“Who’s that?” he asks, turning the volume up a notch.

“Nickelback.”

Derek bobs his head to the beat, his hair falling into his eyes. “I like it.”

“Yeah, me too.” Oh, man. He looks so
adorable.
Focus, Miss Match.
Back to prepping him for asking my sis to homecoming. “Number one is the radio station you should have on whenever Maddie’s in your truck.” I press the first button and Prince serenades us. “Oldies but goodies.”

He car-dances to “Kiss” while I reach for the door handle and jump out.

“Thanks for the ride, Derek. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night, okay?” I put on my helmet and wave.

“On
that
?”

“Are you making fun of my transportation?” I squint my right eye and purse my lips, challenging him.

He holds up his hands. “No ma’am!”

Of course I’m kidding; I know Yas will be up for driving, especially when I tell her we can play the Maddie’s Little Sister card and get into a senior party. On the other hand, I have a feeling that being pressed up against Derek’s body on this scooter wouldn’t have been the most unbearable thing I’ve ever experienced.

Hunter wrote me that Operation Paper Stick didn’t go exactly as planned, but it did get Anna to notice him for the first time. In fact she got her first tardy ’cause she was chatting him up in the hallway. Now that’s a success story if I ever heard one! He’s totally psyched to see her again and eventually ask her out. I advised him to strike while the iron’s hot, so we’ll see what happens next. Finishing the e-mail, I type:

Just as I send the message off through cyberspace, a
honk-honk-hoooonk
sounds from the driveway. Yas is here! I do a quick nose and tooth check in my mirror before bouncing down the stairs, zipping out the front door, and jumping into her Pathfinder. In the second the interior light is on, I see my best friend looking adorable in an emerald-green sweater and skinny black jeans.

“Hiya, darlin’,” she says as I buckle my seat belt. “Oh my heck! You’re all dressed up!”

I glance down at my red (slightly) off-the-shoulder sweater, knee-length skirt, and tall black boots. It took me hours to put this outfit together. Just once I’d like to have Maddie’s or Yasmin’s figure. They don’t have to worry about finding clothes that camouflage their tummies and thighs.

“And is that
perfume
I’m smelling? What’s the occasion, girl?”

I laugh. “No occasion. Just another super-hyped-up party at a rich senior boy’s house.”

“Whatever.” She tunes the radio to 97.1 ZHT and starts grooving in her seat. Yas loves parties. Really, she loves any excuse to dance. And if no one’s in the mood, she’s
famous for getting even the most hard-core couch potatoes and wallflowers shakin’ their stuff.

“We’re going to pick Derek up now.” I tell her to turn up 5600 South and we drive east, the mountains growing closer by the minute.

She arches a meticulously shaped eyebrow (she swears if she misses a single day of plucking, she’ll look like Bert on
Sesame Street
). “Derek?”

“Derek Urban. You know, the guy I’m fixing Maddie up with?”

“Ooooh, that’s right. You’ve got so many clients, I lose track. Well, if you need any help with that tonight, I’m your girl.”

“Thanks, Yas. You’re a gem.”

“By the way, this Derek guy is quite a hottie.” She whistles.

I’m not about to confess to Yas that I also find Derek extremely good-looking. She’d make it out to be something much bigger than it really is and tell me I should drop the gig ’cause of a conflict of interest or some such nonsense. Knowing her, she might even refuse to help me get Derek and Maddie together, and I really need her assistance.

“Really? Huh. I guess I haven’t noticed.”

Yas harrumphs. “Any girl with halfway functioning eyeballs can see he’s gorgeous.”

Ten minutes later we’re at Derek’s. There’s a long, winding driveway leading up to a grayish-blue ranch-style house. I can see a barn behind the fence, and though it’s pretty dark, it looks like there are three or four horses prancing around back there.

A spunky Labrador barks his welcome as Yasmin’s SUV comes to an abrupt halt. Derek opens the front door and yells something inside before running out. He’s wearing a pair of faded Levi’s and a vintage Firestone tee, his denim jacket in hand. “Mmm-mmm,” Yas says under her breath. “You are most
definitely
blind, girl.”

“Hands off, Yas. He’s my sister’s.” I wink at her and then roll down the window. It’s definitely getting cooler in the evenings. Good-bye summer, hello autumn.

He jogs up to the car and says, “Hey, Sasha. Does this look okay?” He gestures up and down his body, indicating his clothes. “Or do you want to come in and help me pick something out? You know, like you said?”

Oh, man. He looks perfect in what he’s wearing, but I don’t want to pass up the
opportunity to check out his room. Despite the look Yas shoots me, I jump out. “This will only take a second,” I tell her, and follow Derek to his front door.

A big candle is burning in the foyer, infusing the air with the scent of sandal-wood and flitting shadows around. A stately grandfather clock tick-tocks from its corner of the living room, and I hear the droning of a TV somewhere in the distance.

“We haven’t really had a chance to decorate,” Derek says when he notices me looking around. He hooks his jacket on a brass coat rack.

I shrug. “It looks beautiful to me,” I say truthfully. Sure, there aren’t a lot of knickknacks or pictures on the walls, but everything is very tasteful and functional.

“Derek?” a lady’s voice calls from the back of the house. “Did you forget something?”

“Um, yeah,” he answers. He leads me to the kitchen, which in contrast to what I’ve seen so far is very cluttered. Copper pans dangle from the ceiling, multicolored mugs and plates are stacked on the counter, and a mountain of veggies is sitting in the sink, seemingly waiting for a bath. A petite,
curvaceous woman is watering one of a forest of houseplants. “Mom, this is my friend Sasha.”

She whips around, clearly surprised her son isn’t alone. “Oh, gracious! Well, Sasha,” she says, wiping her hands on her pants, “it’s wonderful to meet you.” Her curly, reddish hair is adorned with a scarf, and a red leather belt accentuates her narrow waist. But it’s her big, dark blue eyes—just like Derek’s—that seize my attention.

“You too,” I say.

“Well, we’d better get going,” Derek says, starting down the hall. I follow, waving to his mom for good measure.

We walk past a few rooms and then into a small, tidy bedroom with a double bed and a cool window sitting area where he’s laid his guitar. I flop onto the denim duvet while Derek opens his closet door. I quickly assess his room, hoping to glean any info that can help me in my quest to get Maddie to accept his homecoming invitation.

He doesn’t have extra pillows on his bed, and from my research that means he doesn’t need a lot of people around. He’s perfectly comfortable having alone time, or being with just one or two others. And (awww!)
there’s a teddy bear on his shelf that looks old and very much loved, which means he’s sentimental and grounded. Oh, and that homework stacked neatly on his desk? That indicates that he’s punctual. Which I already knew. To be honest I have no idea what the Bratz doll poking out from under his bed means.

“So, you want to take a look?” he asks, nodding at the closet.

“Sure.” I stand and flip through a few of his shirts. “This one,” I say, picking out a heather-gray golf shirt so soft I want to rub my face in it.

He nods and starts taking off his T-shirt. Oh my! He’s changing right in front of me! Wait. I’ve already seen him shirtless in Synch Swimming. So why do I feel my cheeks flushing? Should I look away until he’s finished dressing?

“What’s this?” I ask, picking up the Bratz doll and admiring her chic karate uniform.

“It’s my sister’s. She likes to play hide-and-seek with it, and under my bed is her favorite hiding spot.” He gives me this shy smile and reaches for the golf shirt that I’m clutching to my chest.

I hand it to him and return the doll to her hiding place. Then I turn on my heel, concentrating on the teddy bear on the opposite side of the room. “That’s a cute bear. Did you have it when you were a baby?”

“Yeah. Poor guy’s been through a lot. Snowball fights, baths, birthday cake feedings…you name it.”

“Well, he looks pretty good, considering.”

“And how do I look?” he asks, that shy smile unwavering.

I face him and nod approvingly. “Pretty good, considering.”

“Considering?” he repeats.

“Considering your collar’s all messed up.”

He reaches up to fix it, but one side is still uneven. My Miss Match sensibility called to action, I walk over to him and smooth it out. “There, that’s better.” That instant a totally different sensibility takes over. I feel like one of those wives who help their office-bound husbands tie their neckties. Whoa! Where’d
that
come from?

“You smell good.” He says it so softly, I’m not sure if he actually says it, or if my mind is just playing tricks on me. Then he takes my wrist, which I’m surprised to find
frozen in its previous collar-fixing position, and holds it up to his nose.

“Thanks.” I take my wrist back and smile at Derek, but I’m feeling extremely awkward. Or embarrassed. Or something like that.

As we walk out of his room and down the hall, I try to push these strange feelings aside.

“Derek?” his mom says as we pass by the kitchen. “Why don’t you take some potato chips with you? I’m sure the kids will like that.”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Derek calls, grabbing his jacket.

She materializes behind us, the bag of chips dangling from her outstretched hand. “Take them. And don’t forget to tell Mr. and Mrs. Ruffalo thanks for having you.”

Derek chuckles and takes the Lay’s. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once we’re in Yasmin’s Pathfinder, I introduce them. From the backseat Derek says, “And I thought Texas was famous for good-looking women. If my friends back home could see me now…”

I giggle and Yas flips her black hair the way she does when she’s flirting with guys at
dance clubs. “All
that
and a bag of chips,” she whispers so only I can hear. I wink at her.

When we arrive at Ruffalo’s neighborhood, the guard asks if we’re on the list. I give him my name. He scans a piece of paper and then opens the gate, saying, “Have a nice night.” I must say I’m impressed (and a bit surprised) that Maddie remembered.

Oh. My. God. I swear, this must be where all the Utah Jazz players live. I’ve never known
anyone
who lived in this area. Growing up, I always wanted to figure out how to get in for trick-or-treating ’cause it was rumored that they handed out ten-dollar bills instead of Smarties and Dum Dums.

A steady line of kids is filing inside a huge log-style mansion. Yas parks by the curb, and we all disembark from her Pathfinder. Old-fashioned street lamps—like the ones in those miniature-village scenes people arrange around their Christmas trees—illuminate the perfectly manicured lawns as we make our way to the party.

Ruffalo’s front door is as big as most people’s garage doors, and there’s a slate waterfall in the entryway. A Kaskade CD is booming through the Bose speakers, and quite a few people are dancing on a Navajo
rug in the living room. Yasmin finds her place in a group of gyrating girls, and Derek and I meander around the house in pursuit of Maddie.

“Are you sure she’s here?” Derek asks as we search the den again.

And then I spot her. Well, various parts of her body, anyhow. Kevin’s all over her like an octopus with separation anxiety. I don’t think Derek’s noticed her yet. Thank goodness!

“Hey, Derek? How about dropping off those chips and getting us some drinks? Looks like the kitchen’s that way.” I point to my left, sidestepping around him to block his view of my sis.

After he leaves, I walk up to the jumble of legs and arms and heads on the couch and tap on Maddie’s shoulder. She looks up, startled. “Oh, hey, kiddo.”

“Maddie? I know you’re…er,
busy
…but do you think I could talk to you for just a second? I
really
need to talk to you.” I paint a sad expression on my face and widen my eyes pleadingly. “Please? It’s superimportant.”

Maddie peels Kevin off of her and straightens her hair and skirt. She pats him on the hand and smiles. “I’ll be back.”

Kevin looks like he just watched BYU’s football team clobber the U of U or something. Poor guy. “Sorry, Kevin. I won’t keep her long,” I say.

I drag my sister to the backyard—wow, a swimming pool!—and lead her to an empty table. The music is really loud through the outdoor speakers, so we have to practically shout. “What’s wrong, Sasha?”

I scoot my chair closer to hers and then boohoo about the first thing that comes to mind: not having a date to the homecoming dance. “And it’s my junior year, so I only have one more shot to go. What if I don’t get asked next year? It would be a total tragedy!”

“I didn’t know going to homecoming was such a big deal for you,” Maddie says-slash-shouts.

“But it is! Everyone’s going.” I flail my arms around for effect. “I’m going to be the only girl sitting home that night, and it totally sucks.”

I suddenly notice Derek behind Maddie, holding two cups. How long has he been standing there? I gesture for him to come closer. “Oh, hi, Derek!”

Maddie flips around. He holds one of
the drinks out to her and she grabs it with both hands. “Thanks. I was totally getting thirsty.”

“No problem.” Derek hands the other cup to me and takes a seat opposite us. He pins me with his dark blue gaze. “Is everything okay, Sasha?”

“Isn’t the moon amazing tonight?” I ask breathily. “It’s so
romantic
.”

Derek and Maddie look at me kind of funny. “So, I guess you’re not upset anymore?” Maddie asks.

Jumping to my feet I say, “I need to go to the bathroom. Be right back, okay?” I start walking away and flash Derek what I hope is a very encouraging smile. But then Maddie starts to get up. Oh no.

I jog back to the table. “Maddie, I’m not finished talking to you. Can you just wait a sec? I won’t be long, I promise.” I waggle my pinky finger at her (the “pinky swear” gesture we used to do as kids) until she slowly sinks back into her chair.

“Hey, Sasha!” Derek shouts. “Can you tell somebody to turn up the music while you’re in there? I can barely hear it!”

Laughing, I head inside. Of course, I don’t
really
go to the bathroom. I just want to give
those two future lovebirds the chance to make a connection under this incredible moon.

Man, there are even more people in here now. I weave through all the bodies, nearly colliding with a guy carrying a case of beer. Where’s Kevin? Hopefully, he’s forgotten all about Maddie. And, more precisely, asking her to the homecoming dance. I find him hanging out in the kitchen, munching on the potato chips Derek brought. Kevin catches my eye, and before I know it, he’s sidled up to me. Whoa, this guy’s tall. “Where’d your sister take off to?” he asks.