Speed Dating (13 page)

“There it is,” Mads said. “620 Blue Hill.”

It was a 50s ranch house, very ordinary-looking. A blue Honda was parked in the driveway. Also a new Buick. “That Honda is
his car,” Holly said. “But that can’t be his house.”

“Why not?” Lina asked.

How to explain? It just didn’t look right to Holly. It wasn’t the way she’d pictured his house at all. It wasn’t the kind
of house where maids stabbed people with diamond stilettos. Or even the kind of house where people
owned
diamond stilettos. Or any kind of stilettos. It was just a regular old suburban house.

“Someone’s coming out,” Mads said.

The front door opened, and two middle-aged people emerged. They walked toward the Buick. The woman looked fit, with a sensible,
short haircut, brown tinged with gray. She wore a green sweatsuit and sneakers. The man had a slight paunch, was balding,
and wore slacks and a windbreaker. They got into the Buick and pulled out. Holly ducked.

“Is that the painkiller addict?” Mads asked.

“She doesn’t look like the type to wear diamond-covered shoes,” Lina said. “And she wasn’t in a wheelchair.”

“And I thought his father lived on a ranch in Santa Barbara,” Mads said. “Not a ranch
house.”

“Maybe that was his stepfather,” Holly said, though Eli hadn’t mentioned a stepfather.

“A stepfather named Eli Collins, Sr.?” Lina said. “That would be weird.”

When the Buick was out of sight, Holly pulled into the driveway. A small sign hung from a lamppost on the
walk leading to the house. Holly wanted to get closer so she could read it.

“E
LI
C
OLLINS
, DDS,” it said, with an arrow pointing toward a side door where an office must be.

“He’s a dentist?” Holly said. “Eli’s father is a dentist?”

“I guess you could be a rancher
and
a dentist,” Mads said, surveying the half-acre yard.

“Something weird is going on,” Holly said. “Eli is lying to me.”

To:     mad4u

From: your daily horoscope

HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: You think you’ve got problems? Try eating tainted sushi. Then you’ll really know problems.

D
oes Ginny actually know anything about modern dance?” Quintana asked. “I’ve taken a lot of dance classes, but never one where
the teacher uses a whistle.”

Mads laughed. “I know. She’s like,
‘Tweet!
Point those toes!
Tweet!
Be one with the floor!
Tweet tweet!
You are a wind-blown cloud!‘“

Gym Group 3 was in the locker room changing after
class. The sophomores were divided into four gym sections, which changed every quarter. Group 3 had modern dance with Ginny
the Gym Teacher. This quarter, Mads was in a different section from Holly and Lina, who were still out on the track, running
hurdles and learning to high jump.

“Ginny’s always taught dance that way,” Ingrid said. “I don’t see anything weird about it.”

“You don’t?” Quintana said. “I don’t know, that whistle… it’s so… gym-teacher-esque.”

“That’s why they call it gym,” Ingrid said.

“What-evah,” Quintana said. She stretched her arms over her head, then swooped down and pressed her head to her knees, holding
her ankles. Her body was lean and strong, made for a leotard. Mads, who’d taken her share of dance classes, had always envied
that type: the natural dancer’s body.

“What-evah,” Ingrid sneered. “Is that how they talk in Lake Ho-begone, or wherever it is you moved here from?”

“You mean, Los Angeles?” Quintana said.

“Same thing, from what I hear,” Ingrid said. “Slutsville.”

“I knew Carlton Bay was a small town when we moved here,” Quintana said, “but I had no idea that people who live so close to
San Francisco could be so provincial.”

“Shows what you know,” Ingrid said.

Mads quietly took off her sweaty leotard, listening to
the conversation. Ingrid sounded silly, picking on Quintana this way. Mads couldn’t help admiring Quintana’s cool, which only
infuriated Ingrid more. Was that the same quality the boys liked so much? Mads wasn’t sure. Quintana’s secret was a mystery
Mads was determined to solve. And she was about to find a new clue.

Quintana peeled off her leotard like a lizard shedding its skin. Underneath she was wearing a lacy red bra and matching thong.
Mads tried not to stare. But she was amazed. Her underwear was so pretty. And sexy. And grown up. Mads glanced down at her
white lycra sports bra, which she barely needed, and her white cotton panties. Spanky Pants. She’d worn the same brand since
she was in third grade.

All around her, the other girls were wearing white cotton like Mads, or bikinis and boy shorts and bras in cute colors and
patterns. Kid stuff. No one was wearing anything lacy and silky and see-through. Except Quintana.

“You can always tell a Slutsville girl by her underwear,” Ingrid stage-whispered to Claire. Quintana ignored them. Mads tried
to shut them out.

“You wear thongs?” she asked Quintana. “And lacy pushup bras?”

“Of course,” Quintana said. “I’d die before I’d wear granny pants. They might go in and out of fashion, but
who wants to feel like a grandma? Silk feels so sexy, even if no one ever sees it. And when you feel sexy, you act sexy.” She
reached for her blouse, and the silk shimmered against her skin.

How did Quintana know all this? Mads had to admit that standing next to Quintana, thong to granny pants, she felt like a tomboy.
Or a little kid. And Quintana looked like a woman. Or a lingerie ad.

Maybe that’s the secret,
Mads thought.
If I wear sexy lingerie when I’m with Stephen, I’ll feel sexy. He’ll pick up on the vibe and feel sexy, too. And then maybe
we can make out for five minutes without some kind of lame interruption.

“The key is, everything has to fit right,” Quintana said to Mads. “Especially bras. Actually, I need some new stuff. Want to
go to Victoria’s Secret with me this afternoon?”

“Sure!” Mads said. This was an opportunity Mads wouldn’t miss for anything. Lingerie shopping with the sleek Quintana. Who
knew what tips she’d pick up?

“That will be a sight,” Ingrid said. “Little Mads all dolled up in a lacy bra. She doesn’t even have enough to fill an A cup.”

“I’d rather be too small on top than too big on the bottom,” Quintana said with a glance at Ingrid’s too-tiny panties.

“Bite me,” Ingrid snapped.

“And risk salmonella poisoning?” Quintana said. “No thanks.”

“Try this camisole,” Quintana said, holding up a sheer top made of fine, pale-pink netting. It was simple but pretty. “The
good thing about being an A-cup is you can wear things like this and you don’t need a bra.” She stretched the fabric over her
hand. Her tawny skin glowed through it.

Mads tried on the camisole, and it looked beautiful on her. On her paler skin, the pink made her look rosy. It was comfortable,
too. She added it to the pile of things she’d decided to buy: a lacy bra in hot purple (“This will look great under a tank
with your straps showing,” Quintana told her), a pair of sheer black panties, and a tiny striped thong, practically a string.
It was the one item Mads wasn’t too sure about, comfort-wise. But she felt she should have one. And Quintana said it looked
evil on her, which was a good thing.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Quintana said as they paid for their things. She had bought a pair of satin tap pants with a matching
cami. “It really helps to have a friend with you when you’re buying lingerie.”

“I know,” Mads said. “I could never have done this alone.” Which was way beyond true. If Quintana hadn’t urged her on, she would
have run screaming back to the granny pants section.

“You’re so cute,” Quintana said. “You just need to believe it.” She stood next to a giant poster showing a line of Victoria’s
Secret models, and Mads was struck by how much Quintana fit in with them. Quintana was not as voluptuous as the models, but
they shared a kind of ripe look. And an uninhibited quality. That was what the boys liked, for sure. The question was, did
you have to be born with it? Or could you manufacture it somehow? Mads was hoping it would rub off of Quintana and onto her,
because she wasn’t born with it, that was for sure.

1. Your favorite kind of panties are:
   

   &	granny pants
   #	boy shorts
   *,#	bikinis
   %	thong
   *,%	none

2. You’d wear a thong even though it’s uncomfortable:
   

   $,%	True
   *,&	False

3. Your favorite bra type is:
   

   #	sports bra
   &	heavy duty cotton holster in plain white
   $	lacy, flimsy
   %	pushup bra
   *	none

4. Extras: Choose your favorite:
   

   $	thigh-high stockings
   %	corset
   &	lacy camisole
   %	garter belt
   &	tummy-control body shaper
   &	day-of-the-week panties
   *	panties with a sexy message on them
   #	plain white tank undershirt
   $	teddy
   &	tap pants