My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters (26 page)

"Charms! That sounds fun." I couldn't help myself.

Helen greeted each of us with a hug.

"I haven't even put them out front yet," she told Mom. "Follow me." Helen pushed through the swinging door. Gideon's door was shut. "Still sleeping," she said, as if we'd asked for an explanation. "Teenagers."

Helen set little bags of charms all over the classroom tables for Mom to examine.

"I'd like to make myself a bracelet. Something inspirational." Mom held up a bag of flat silver charms with words written on them. "These might be just right."

Helen handed Mom a pair of little scissors. "Go ahead and open them up."

I sorted through different baggies. Ladybugs. Butterflies. Wine bottles. Cacti. Horses. Cake.

"I can't believe they make a cake charm!" I laughed. "That's so funny. Do they have a wrecked van?"

"No, but I did order a mixed-motor-vehicle pack." Helen dug around in a big box. "Here it is."

"Oh, my God. There's a little van!" A necklace strung itself in my mind. I'd create layers of colored beads with charms mixed in from things that reminded me of this summer. I spotted a little beer-bottle charm. Perfect. What else would I need? A chunk-of-long-blond-hair charm? No, but scissors would work. I found a little red, white, and blue flag: great for the Fourth of July. A French-fries charm, for Hannah and Megan. A tiny drama mask, for the cinema club. A little wiggly-looking guy would symbolize yoga. Sunglasses would represent Tyler. A baseball cap for Dick in the Dark. I wanted to remember everything. Good and bad. Two tiny dice for casino-cake deliveries. I picked up a little violin.

Helen reached for the charm. "Oh, I'd like to give that one to Gideon."

"That's okay, she can have it."

I looked up to see Gideon standing with his hair fluffed out in all directions. He wore pajama bottoms and a baggy Modest Mouse T-shirt.

"Well, good morning." Helen shook her head. "It's almost noon."

"I dragged Jory out of bed around eleven." Mom put her arm around me. "Teenagers."

I held the tiny golden violin out to Gideon.

"No, you can keep it." He folded my fingers around the charm. "Helen can order me another one."

"Helen, will you help me pick out some great glass beads for my bracelet?" Mom kind of raised her eyebrows at me as she followed Helen out of the room. Could she be more obvious?

"So, you like making jewelry?" Gideon yawned. Did I bore him? He just woke up, but still.

"Yeah, I guess I kind of do. Like it, I mean," I said. "At least I don't completely suck at it."

Gideon lifted the necklace I'd made from my neck. The rough tips of his fingers tickled my skin.

"Pretty good knots for your first time," he said.

I crinkled my face.

He backed away, covering his mouth. "Oops, sorry. Morning breath."

"No, it's not that." I grimaced. "I guess I have a hard time taking a compliment."

"Get used to it." Gideon put his hand on my shoulder. "You've obviously got something unique planned." He tilted his head toward the pile of charms I'd collected on the table.

"Not really."

Gideon gave me the Look. No wonder Mom liked him.

"Well, I guess I
do
have a couple of ideas." I ran my fingers through my hair. "I miss my long hair."

"I don't," Gideon said. "What are your ideas?"

And for some reason I told him. "Well, one is a necklace with charms from, you know, this summer. Oh, and I want to make a button necklace for Hannah because she's, you know, cute as a button. And something classic for Megan, maybe round beads. But I think I'll start with the charms." I hoped I didn't sound too dumb.

"Cool." Gideon nodded. "Should the violin make me hopeful, or did you spend a lot of time at the symphony?"

My stomach fluttered.

"When you blush, your freckles really stand out."

"Oh, God." I covered my face with my hands, but he tugged them away.

"Don't. It's cute."

"I hate that word." Why did I say that? I wished that I could say flirty, fun things.

"Would you prefer
dainty, adorable, darling, sweet
..." Gideon thought for a minute. "Or
precious?
"

"What are you, a thesaurus?"

"I prefer
wordsmith.
I like to play around with words." Gideon looked down, and his hair flopped over one eye. "I'm even trying to write some of my own songs. Wanna hear?"

"Sure."

I followed Gideon to his room while out front Mom and Helen debated different beading possibilities. Gideon sat on the chair in front of his computer. I stood behind him, reading the Fleet Foxes poster next to his desk. He'd left the door open, and I liked that.

"Okay, it's a little rough. I'm still getting the hang of my new software."

"Do you sing it?" I shifted from foot to foot, feeling weird being in his bedroom with my mom about to walk past any second.

"No, but I do play some strings. I got Ben, the guy who sang at the frat party, to do the vocals. He likes it. He may add it to the band's regular set."

I thought back to the frat party—I had barely heard the band because of Ass Grabber. Smiling to myself, I remembered Gideon's toenails.

"Please, don't tell me you're thinking of my toxic toes," Gideon said.

"I wasn't. Swear." I put my hand up like a defendant on one of those lawyer shows.

"You're a lousy liar." Gideon pushed my hand down. "I like that about you."

I could hardly believe it. Here I was in a boy's room, and he wasn't a Caughlin Ranch honor-student-star-athlete guy, but a beading violinist who got kicked out of his last high school. And I
did
like him.

"Okay, here goes." Gideon clicked play. The song started with strings, then Ben's voice joined in, singing about a girl. I focused on the lyrics about a girl who didn't know how special she was; she kept making mistakes, drinking too much, dating the wrong guys, and numbing her pain. The singer wanted to save her but didn't know how.

"So?" Gideon peeked up at me with most of his hair covering his face.

"Great," I said. "Maybe too familiar."

"I did kind of think of you when I saw you with that Tyler guy at the movies."

"I'm over that. It got complicated. Long story." I didn't want to give anything away.

"I know all about Tyler," Gideon said. "He hit on me at a party last year."

"He thought you were...?"

"I do play the violin
and
make jewelry." He raised an eyebrow. "Not to mention, I suck at sports. All sports."

"Me too." I sat down on Gideon's bed and pet the cat curled up near his pillow. "I'm especially an embarrassment when it comes to volleyball. Last winter when the air got really smoggy, we got stuck playing the most evil sport for weeks."

"Same at McQueen. I called it the Never-ending Bad Air Quality Volleyball Tournament." He sat next to me on the bed, and I turned to face him, sitting cross-legged. Gideon did the same. "I solved the problem by releasing all of McQueen's volleyballs back into nature." He told me how he and a friend had snuck into the gym, stolen all the volleyballs, and dumped them in the Truckee River.

"That's so great." I laughed. "Didn't you get caught?"

"Suspended. Three days."

"Did your mom kill you?" Gideon's knee touched mine. I wasn't sure if I should move, even though I liked the way it felt.

"Actually, Helen appreciates a little creativity." He stuck his other leg out straight. Right next to me! "Though she did lecture me about littering and made me volunteer to clean up San Rafael Park with her for two weekends."

"Your mom's great."

"I think you're pretty great."

Gideon leaned forward and kissed me, even though the door was still open.

For the arts festival up at Tahoe, Mom spent hours making charm bracelets that seriously could've been sold in boutiques and catalogs—they looked that good. Just before seven in the morning, Helen picked us up in her ancient blue Volvo station wagon, license plate
JEWEL
. The back held stacks of jewelry display cases; Mom crammed her own box between them.

"Climb in, ladies." Helen held up a sack. "I brought muffins."

I slid into the back seat next to Gideon. He smiled at me, rubbing his eyes. "Getting up this early is torture."

I kind of shook my head back and forth, not wanting to look too excited.

"Don't tell me you're one of those extra-cheerful morning people."

"Just today."

"Mmm." Mom stuck her cute little nose into the muffin bag. "Banana-nut!" She handed one each to me and Gideon and lifted her own supersized muffin out of the bag. She didn't offer to split it with anyone and didn't complain about how many calories she'd have to work off at the gym; she simply took a big bite. I watched as she finished the whole thing, even plucking a sticky crumb off her shirt. I bit into my own muffin, sat back against the seat, and watched the pine trees whoosh past as we cruised along on the freeway. Every now and then we had a view of sunlight sparkling on the river. Gideon reached over and held my hand. Everything felt right in the world.

Gideon stayed with his mom until she got into a groove with her cash register and credit card machine and knew where all her extra supplies were stacked under the table. After a few early sales, Mom decided to make some more charm bracelets, so I helped.

"Will you hand me another 'dream' charm?" Mom reached across the table. "I almost put 'love' on twice."

"Can't have too much love."

"True." Mom reached over and touched my hand. "Can I tell you just once more how much this means to me? To finally have something in common with you? I can't remember feeling so happy, even though things haven't happened exactly like I'd hoped." Dad had
not
gotten the promotion. Mom talked—happily—about downsizing to a townhouse, as long as she had space for her beading supplies. And she still planned to cut back on her own work hours.

"I guess sometimes you think you want something more than you really do," I said, thinking
Tyler Briggs, devirgination, nose job.

"Only seventeen and so wise." Mom held up a finished bracelet. "I love the silver with the blue. Don't you?" Mom smiled, all dreamy. Her face looked younger since she'd gained a little weight back.

A classic I-have-a-waterfront-house-at-Tahoe-and-my-third-husband-will-do-anything-for-me lady went gaga watching "an artist at work." She custom-ordered three bracelets. When Mom offered to let the woman select her own beads, she wanted to pay double.

"Mom, you really know how to work with these people," I whispered.

"Three years of trying to get into Lindsey Dickenson's book club has taught me quite a bit about the rich but not so famous." Mom shrugged, satisfied.

Gideon tapped me on the shoulder. "Come on, let's look around."

Gideon and I wandered past the rows of booths, avoiding all the pottery stuff, both agreeing that we'd never, ever care about such boring things as dishes. We spent at least ten minutes looking through fancy kaleidoscopes at one booth, trying to outdo the other with the prettiest designs.
Look at this one with the purple swirls. Ah, but see mine has little mirrors so you can see the pine trees.

"Oh, I want one like this." I held up one that made patterns with dried flowers.

Gideon showed me the price tag: $150. Maybe not. But I would have some post-van-wreck money saved from my job. Did I really want to spend it on clothes, like Hannah suggested? Finn wanted me to buy a car. Pretty fishy request from someone only three months from his learner's permit. Megan told me to save it for college.

"You're actually thinking about it, aren't you?" Gideon stared at me. "You
are
one of those rich girls from the fancy neighborhood."

"No, but I did save all my money from my job—while I had it—this summer."

"Impressive discipline."

"Not really. I was saving for something specific." I glanced away so he wouldn't try to read my expression. No way would I
ever
tell anyone about the potential nose job. Too embarrassing!

"Flashy ride? Fashionista clothes? Trip around the world?" Gideon spoke in an English accent.

"Not exactly." I attempted a Russian accent: "I had a deep, dark, mysterious secret."

We stopped to look at another jewelry display, the usual stuff: wineglass charms, basic beaded necklaces, and simple earrings.

"Oh, Fifi," Gideon said in
his
English accent. "Wouldn't our dear pussycat Mr. Sullivan just love this?" He held up a gaudy leather cat collar studded with fake diamonds and pearls.

"Didn't I tell you, darling? Mr. Sullivan died last week. Choked on his diamond ear stud."

"Oh, tragedy!" Gideon fake sobbed. "How will we ever again find a cat that's part mountain lion, part Siamese—from Siam—and part alley cat? Such beauty."

The woman in the booth rolled her eyes at us, and we burst into laughter.

"Dah-ling," he said. "Let us go find some bangers and chips."

I laughed. "Some what?"

"Hot dogs and fries." His breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "You're blowing my cover."

"What? Now you're some secret agent?" I asked, bumping my shoulder against his.

"You're the one who has some mysterious, expensive, deep, dark, secret. What is it?"

I shook my head. "Too embarrassing." I pretended to lock my lips with a key.

"I know that combination." He leaned over and kissed me. "Secret?"

I spotted a booth with crazy hats. "Look! Hats!" I ran over and started trying them on. I began with a chicken head. Gideon put on a "My Bitch Done Left Me for a Dawg" cap that had long stringy hair hanging down.

"Not you." I plopped a wizard hat on him instead. "They should totally remake
Harry Potter
starring you." I tipped up on my toes and kissed him.

"So you have a thing for the dark arts?"

I felt kind of flustered, thinking about Tom and that dark room and what a big mistake
that
had been. What made me think I could trust Gideon? Maybe he was just the same—a friendly flirt who wanted one thing. The thing I'd decided I wasn't ready to give. Not yet. Even if I did get into some freak accident and died a virgin. Current chance of dying a virgin: I don't care.