Will the Real Prince Charming Please Stand Up (13 page)

The late November sunlight peeked through my window the next morning, but I managed to ignore it until my empty stomach insisted I get out of bed. Weekends were typically my days to sleep in, and took full advantage of it.

My phone beeped with a message from Ally:
700!!!

I laughed, a combination of amusement and relief. After the events of the previous evening, Ally had decided that publishing her Dante-as-psycho-boyfriend exposé would have been recapping ancient news, especially since far more interesting things had been happening right in front of us. From our booth at D’Amato’s, we’d had a perfect view of Amy Crawford making out with Liam Iverson.

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend at, like, Princeton or something?” I’d whispered to Tim as we gawked at them.

He’d raised his eyebrows as he drank from a large cup. “Not anymore.”

Ally had dutifully uploaded a post from the pizzeria, complete with a series of photos of the couple, including one of them leaving the restaurant together. It got a few hundred hits before we’d even left D’Amato’s, and if Ally’s text was to be believed, it appeared interest hadn’t waned overnight.

I kind of felt bad for Amy, but it was nice not being the only thing on Ally’s radar.

My stomach growled in protest as I quickly sent a response, so I crawled out from under my covers, hastily pulled my hair into twin low ponytails and strolled down the stairs in my pajamas in search of something to eat.

I was sitting at the kitchen table with a giant bowl of my favorite cereal when Brady and Tim came in from the garage.

“I’m telling you, you can’t just drop a new engine into a classic car and expect her to be perfect,” Tim said as they came into the house.

“Like anyone cares about matching part numbers, anyway,” Brady replied. “I want a car I can drive, not a museum piece.”

“Hey, I’m with you there. Your dad’s the matching parts guy, not me.” They came into the kitchen, their work shirts smeared with grease. This wasn’t an unusual sight. At least once every few months, the two of them joined my dad to change the oil in their cars or replace brake pads or otherwise tinker under the hoods of their cars.

Neither of them seemed to notice me. Tim made a beeline for the sink to wash his hands while my brother searched the refrigerator for something to drink.

“Don’t we have any soda?” he said to no one in particular.

“Not cold,” I said. “There’s some in the pantry, but if you want it cold, you’ll have to drink it from a glass with ice all civilized-like.”

He scowled at me as he straightened and closed the refrigerator door. “What are you wearing?”

I looked down at my hot pink flannel pajama pants and white cotton tank top. “Pajamas,” I replied, wondering if this was a trick question. “I just got up.”

“Since when do you come downstairs in your pajamas?”

“Um, since Mom invented Pajama Days?” I made a face at him. “Since when do you care?”

“You shouldn’t dress like that when we have company.”

I glanced around before I stared at him incredulously. “Who? Tim?” I said, gesturing to him with my spoon. I laughed. “He practically lives here.” I looked down at my clothes again and added, “And, PS, I’m completely covered up.”

“Your top is practically see-through!” Brady said in a loud whisper.

“No, it’s not!” I protested. “And even if it was, it’s not like anyone’s looking!”

“Leave her alone, man,” Tim said as he stood beside him, drying his hands on a towel. “She looks fine.” He smiled, and I grabbed one of my ponytails, twirling it as I felt my cheeks burn.

Brady huffed and stomped out of the kitchen.

“What’s his problem?” I asked between bites of cereal.

He shrugged and sat beside me at the table. “Who knows? He’s being Brady.”

“I guess.”

Tim toyed with the linen placemat in front of him, rolling up a corner then letting it uncoil before rolling it again. “So Brady told me he’s put you on lockdown.”

“Yeah. He’s so weird. You’d think there’s a mass murderer on the loose, not just a dumb ex-boyfriend.”

He laughed. “So what’s on your agenda?”

“Homework.”

“Hmm. That sounds riveting.”

I snickered. “You have no idea.”

“Well, other than homework, what are you doing? Are the girls coming over?”

“Nope. Not today. I might watch a movie or something lame like that. Have a cartoon marathon. Play some video games. Maybe paint my nails.” I grinned. “The possibilities are endless.”

He nodded, and I watched his hands. The placemat was starting to curl on its own from the way he was playing with it. “Do you want some company?” he asked, not looking up at me.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Tim,” I replied. As soon as I said it, I realized how rude I must have sounded, so I added, “But you can hang out with me if you don’t have anything better to do. I mean, especially if my brother is still being a grumpy pants.”

He smiled at me, and I stared with great interest at the floating marshmallows in my cereal bowl to keep from blushing.

“You might want to change your clothes when you’re done with breakfast, though,” Tim suggested.

“No Pajama Day?” I asked with a playful pout.

“I definitely don’t have a problem with it,” he replied, his ears turning red, “but Brady’s right. That tank top doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination.”

****

“
X-Men Evolution
?” Tim asked a few hours later when he found me in the family room watching TV with an enormous bowl of popcorn. I had hurried to finish my homework while he did whatever it was he did to his car. I hadn’t changed out of my pajama pants, but after Tim’s earlier observation, I’d raced upstairs to put on a sweatshirt.

“Don’t complain about my cartoon choices. I could be making you watch some rom coms instead,” I told him as I patted the couch beside me.

“I’m glad you aren’t.” He sat down and grabbed a handful of popcorn before he leaned back and settled himself into the plush cushions. “This is a cool series. I used to watch it when I was a kid.”

“I remember. You and Brady would read all the comics and act stuff out, and you’d never let me play with you guys.”

“That was kind of mean of us, huh?”

“Nah. That’s normal for Brady.”

I set the big bowl in his lap and leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder as we watched. His familiar scent was mixed with sweat and motor oil, and it was oddly comforting. I smiled.

“You know, most of these bad guys really don’t seem so bad,” I observed while we watched the second episode of the first season.

“How so?”

“Well, like, they’re all basically misunderstood kids, you know, but they get frustrated that no one seems to understand them. So they become, like, this band of misfits, and that’s why they behave like they do.” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“But isn’t that kind of true about everyone?” Tim asked. “I mean, you can make excuses for people all you want because of what happened to them or whatever, but at the end of the day, it’s the choices you make that determine which side you’ll be on.”

I pursed my lips as I considered his words. “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

“Everything’s about choices and consequences, Bianca,” he said. “You should probably read up on more origin stories.”

So over the next three hours, Tim filled me in on the histories he could remember of different characters in the episodes. I’d forgotten a lot of them; it had been a long time since the days when I’d sneak into Brady’s room to read the comics he had stored there. It was funny listening to Tim because he had this reputation at school of being this super-stud athlete, and no one would have guessed he was such a comic book geek. But, of course, I’d always been privy to a different side of him.

“Now, if you could have any power, what would it be?” I asked.

“I want to fly.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “But that’s so lame. Everyone wants to fly. Pick something else.”

“No way. You say
any
power. That’s what I pick.”

“Lame,” I repeated, “and totally unoriginal.”

“You didn’t ask for an original response. You asked what power I wanted.”

“Whatevs.”

“What about you?” he asked. “What power would you want?”

I thought carefully. “I’d like to be able to read people’s minds.”

“And get people to do what you want them to do?”

“No, that’s a total abuse of power. It’s no better than Dante telling me he doesn’t want me seeing you.”

Tim arched an eyebrow. “Are we seeing each other?”

My cheeks burned, and, feeling flustered, I turned away from him. “You know what I mean.”

He was silent for a moment before he said, “You might be on to something with the whole mind-reading thing.”

I stole a glance at him, and he was watching me with a very curious expression. I’d totally picked the right power. I wanted to know what he was thinking.

“I told you it’s better than flight,” I said.

“Well, I’m not sure about that, but it would definitely come in handy,” he said, still eyeing me.

I put my head back on his shoulder and tried to focus on the show. I found it interesting how quickly my feelings could shift from comfortably relaxed to flustered and back whenever I was with Tim. I usually felt at ease around him, but then he’d look at me a certain way or pay special attention to me, and I’d start acting like a lovesick idiot. It was weird.

Tim hadn’t changed at all from the boy who’d once shared his ice cream sandwich with me because Brady startled me and made me drop my popsicle — the boy the fourth-grade version of me would have done anything to get attention from. But fifteen-year-old me was comfortable around him, like I wasn’t at all afraid to be myself. It was so different from the way I felt around Dante.

I liked it. A lot.

As wrapped up in my thoughts as I was, I didn’t notice Tim’s arm around my shoulders, holding me close while I snuggled against him.

And I was, indeed, snuggled against him.

It was relaxing and very cozy, to the point that I didn’t even bother to move when Brady came into the room.

“Hey, Tim, Mom wants to know if you’re sticking around for dinner.” He looked at me and frowned.

“Do you want me to stay?” Tim whispered into my hair.

“Sure,” I whispered back.

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he said to my brother.

Brady grunted an acknowledgement and stomped out of the room.

“Sounds like Mr. Grumpy Pants is back,” I said with a laugh.

“So this Dante kid,” Tim said after we watched in silence for a few minutes. “Are you really done with him?”

“Yes. Definitely.” I scrunched up my nose and shuddered before I looked up at him. “Have you ever regretted, like, not listening to what other people told you about someone? Like everyone’s telling you one thing, but you ignore them and do something else instead?”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”

I turned my attention back to the TV. “I think a part of the problem is that I don’t think I was really ready for a boyfriend,” I said decidedly. “Especially not one with a crazy jealous streak and temper.”

I thought I heard him mumble something like, “We’re not all like that,” but if he did, it was so softly that I couldn’t really be sure.

My phone buzzed with a text from Ally while Brady and I were still on our way to school.

WE GOT CALLED BACK!!!!!
it read.

“Ally?”

I bobbed my head before I tucked my phone back into my skort pocket. “She’s excited.”

“You know how I knew it was her? She’s the only person who texts you before normal people are even awake enough to look at their phones.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “It’s not that early,” I said. “And sometimes there’s news that can’t wait.”

“I guess.”

A few minutes later, he pulled into his space in the senior lot.

“Oh, look,” he said in a monotone voice. “Ally’s waiting for you.”

I laughed. “You’re such a jerk,” I said over my shoulder as I got out of the car.

“Did you get my text?” she asked in a rush. When I nodded, she screamed, “I’m so excited!”

I smiled, but I wasn’t nearly as enthused as she was. At the start of every audition cycle, Mrs. Riley would remind us that being called back was neither a guarantee that we’d have a role nor a flat-out rejection. I thought she used callbacks mostly to check the chemistry between two actors for lead roles, though, so I was glad I’d made the list.

My callback was for that afternoon; Ally’s was on Tuesday. But whatever the outcome, we’d find out on Wednesday if we'd made it into the cast.

Drama Club stuff aside, the week of Thanksgiving was always kind of miserable, anyway. Maybe it was because we were all itching for a break from school, or maybe it was because finals were less than a month away. Whatever it was, it felt like everyone was really stressed out.

“Is it just me, or does it seem like all the teachers got together and decided to pile everything into a single week?” Talia complained as we made our way to homeroom. “I’ve got five tests between today and tomorrow and two projects due this week.”

“Tell me about it,” Tim said. “I have a research paper to turn in Wednesday morning that counts for a third of my English grade this semester.”

“Yuck,” Ally said, her nose wrinkled in a distasteful sneer. “Is it at least about something interesting?”

“The relevance of sociological themes in Huxley’s
Brave New World
to today’s society?” he asked. “It’s thrilling, I assure you.”

I laughed at his sarcastic tone, and he grinned in return.

“Ooh!” Ally said, staring at her phone as she walked. “I guess the administration finally approved a theme for this year’s Winter Formal!”

“Oh?” Talia asked. I stifled a giggle because I knew she couldn’t care less.

“It’s going to be ‘Candy Cane Dreams’!”

“That’s different,” I said.

“I guess,” she replied, tapping furiously on her phone before pocketing it. “We’ve been arguing over themes for weeks, so now I’m curious to see what the rest of the committee says about decorations. So far, all anyone’s been able to agree on is that each couple will take home a little bucket of candy.”

Talia nodded. “That sounds kind of cute.”

“Well, we’ll see. We have to get the okay on that from the administration, of course. But I’m glad we finally got approval for something. Between the rest of Student Council turning up their noses at just about everything we suggested and the administration vetoing everything else, we were running out of ideas, and I didn’t want to have something lame like ‘Winter Wonderland’ for our theme.”

“I like it,” Tim said. “I’d be willing to go for the favors alone. Who would pass up free candy?”

“That’s what Marco said!” Ally replied with a laugh.

“Then you’d have to find someone to ask you to take her,” Talia said to Tim as we arrived at our classroom, “unless you think you might actually ask somebody this time?”

I glanced up sharply at her and lowered my gaze just as quickly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear his response.

“Maybe,” he said as the first bell rang. “If I think there’s a chance she’ll say yes.”

Ally, Talia, and I went into the classroom and took our seats. Ally was telling us how much traffic her site got after her post about Amy and Liam, but I was too distracted thinking about Tim’s cryptic response to pay much attention.

During morning announcements, I realized I hadn’t seen Dante since he’d freaked out at me Thursday afternoon. I thought — or rather hoped — he might have moved on, but then I saw him lurking across the hall while I waited for Tim after the bell rang. He didn’t approach me or try to talk to me; he just stood across the hall, watching me.

It was disturbing.

“Stalker much?” Talia said when she saw him.

“I can’t believe I ever thought he was cute,” Ally said disdainfully as they headed down the hall together. “Creepy definitely turns hot into lukewarm.”

Dante raised his hand in a mock salute, and I shuddered.

“Sorry I’m late,” Tim said, materializing at my side. “I had to run some stuff up to the front office.” He studied me. “You look kind of pale. Are you okay?”

I looked at the vacant spot where Dante had been standing a moment ago and slowly nodded.

Tim followed my gaze and looked back at me. “Come on,” he said at last, putting his arm around my shoulder as he ushered me to my next class.