Wrong About the Guy (7 page)

“No,” said Jacob, to my surprise.

“Hot dogs,” I told him. “We're going to eat hot dogs.”

He lunged so suddenly toward the steps that I almost dropped him.

“Whatever you do, don't mention the kale salad,” I stage-whispered to Aaron as we climbed out of the pool. “That could turn this right around.”

A
fter dumping Jacob into Mom's arms with an unceremonious “He's all yours,” I ran into the house to change out of my wet bathing suit and into a striped boatneck top and a pair of oversized sweatpants, which I rolled down at the waist. I released my hair from its elastic and just left it wild on my shoulders. It was still slightly damp, so it was only going to get bigger as the night went on, but I was okay with that; I had long ago made my peace with having hair I couldn't control.

I ran downstairs and into the backyard on bare feet.

The others had already gotten their food and were eating it at the table, so I filled my own plate at the counter, and then George came up from the pool area, dressed, with his hair still dripping in his eyes.

“This is incredible,” he said, looking at the spread.

“I believe the word you're looking for is
obscene
.”

The adults were gathered at one end of the outdoor
dining room table, with Jacob on Mom's lap and Mia on Megan's. I sat at the far end, next to Aaron. There was an empty place on my other side, and once he'd helped himself to the food, George eyed the table and, after a moment of hesitation, sat there.

“You kids ready to go back to school?” Luke called down the table.

“Shhh,” I said, stabbing my fork into a piece of fish. “I'm in denial. The summer can't be over—I had such big plans for it.”

“Oh, right,” Mom said. “Weren't you going to start a running program? Train for a 5K?”

“It's been too hot.”

“And yet we had an unusually cool July,” she said.

“Do you play any team sports, Ellie?” Michael asked. “I want Aaron to go out for something. It's a great way to meet people and make friends.”

“I played lacrosse,” I said. “Freshman year. And I did a season of softball. Oh, and I was on the swim team for a while last year but they expected us to get there at six every morning and—What's so funny?” This was to George, who looked way too amused, given the fact I didn't think I'd said anything particularly witty.

“Nothing.” He sawed his knife through his steak in a quick, clean motion.

“I like to try different things,” I said, annoyed.

Mia suddenly let out a huge wail, making table-long conversation temporarily impossible.

Aaron stood up abruptly. “I'm going to grab a beer. Anyone else want one?” We both declined. I watched as he went into the kitchen area and got a beer from the outdoor refrigerator. As he was walking by the adults, Crystal looked up and said something to him. He shrugged in response and she touched Michael's arm and pointed to the beer. Michael gave an identical shrug, and Aaron shot Crystal a triumphant look.

Megan had walked away from the table so she could shush and bounce the baby, and Aaron dropped into her seat, joining the adult conversation.

“She hasn't gotten a chance to eat,” George said in a low voice.

“Who?”

He was getting to his feet. “Excuse me,” he said, and walked over to Megan, then held out his arms in an offer to take Mia from her. Megan shook her head at first, but he said, “Just for a few minutes, so you can have some dinner.” She still hesitated for another moment or two, but then passed the baby to him. She watched anxiously while he tried to find a comfortable way to hold Mia—he clearly wasn't any more used to holding babies than toddlers—but he said, “It's okay. I've got this,” and she suddenly flashed a brilliant smile.
“Five minutes,” she said. “That's enough.” She ran over to the food and quickly filled a plate.

George moved onto the grass and started walking the baby in slow, careful circles. She wasn't screaming anymore, just mildly fretting, but she still had tears on her cheeks; they glinted in the little white lights Mom had asked the gardeners to string on the trellis for the summer.

I had no one to talk to now, so I got up and went to them. “I can take her,” I said, and held my arms out.

“It's okay. You should keep eating.”

“I'm done. Come on, give her to me. I'm amazing with babies.”

George shifted Mia into my arms. I tried to cuddle her against me but she whined and moved her head restlessly. “She's just tired,” I said. “Jacob always used to get cranky right before he went to sleep. Actually, he still does. Actually, so do I.” I started to bounce her rhythmically, shifting from foot to foot with a little dip on each side, and she stopped complaining. “Ah, see? I bet she'll be asleep in two minutes.”

“You're good with kids.”

“That's because I relate to them—I'm selfish and demanding and I cry when I don't get my way.”

“I guess it takes a spoiled child to soothe a spoiled child,” he said.

“I wouldn't go that far.” I cuddled Mia against me. “We're demanding but we're not spoiled.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said.

Video chatting with Heather later that night, I said, “I'm not spoiled, right?”

“Of course not,” she said. “You're the best person in the world.”

For some reason, the hyperbole was less reassuring than a simple
no
would have been. “I do a lot for other people,” I said, sitting down with a thump on my desk chair and peering at her on the screen. “I'm going to be running the Holiday-Giving Program at school—did I tell you about that?”

“No,” she said. “What is it?”

“We give families who live in shelters Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas presents and stuff like that. I'm president this year. Well, co-president.”

“That's really cool. You do a
lot
of nice things for people. Especially me.” She smiled. “Why are you even worrying about this?”

“George called me spoiled.”

“Really? That's so mean.”

“He was mostly joking.”

“Then stop worrying about it! You're being ridiculous.” She had braided her thick fair hair while we were talking and now she whisked the tip of her braid over
her lips like she was dusting them. “When do I get to meet Aaron? I'm dying to.”

“I'll text him and make a plan. I want to know what you think.”

“I can't wait! If he's half as cute as he looks in his photos—”

“He's cuter,” I said. “And funny. And smart. He's nothing like the boys from school. He's a million times cooler—but not in a fake cool way, you know? Like he's just his own person. And you should see him with his shirt off. Everyone should see him with his shirt off. It should be like the universal Christmas present for good girls everywhere.”

“Happy sigh,” she said with a happy sigh. “So you're totally in love.”

I shook my head. “In love, no. But there is potential there.”

“That's the most positive thing you've ever said about any guy.”

“Well, you know how I feel about dating in high school. It's always a mistake.”

“But if you and Aaron fell in love—”

“That's a big
if
.” I tried to picture the two of us kissing. The thought wasn't repulsive. I shrugged. “We'll see. Hold on—I want you to help me pick out what I'm going to wear tomorrow.” I got up and walked into my closet, which was the kind of closet you can walk into,
and pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved transparent top. I brought them over to the computer so she could see them. “How about this? I'd wear a tank underneath, of course, and boots.”

“It's going to be hot tomorrow,” she said.

“So? There'll be air-conditioning.”

“You're lucky. My stupid school doesn't have air-conditioning. Or a pool. Or a library. Or anything good.”

“I wish you could go to Coral Tree with me.”

“Yeah.” A couple of years ago, I talked Heather into asking her parents if she could transfer there. They couldn't afford the tuition, but I thought maybe she could get financial aid. But the school rejected her application before money even got discussed. Heather said it was because she hadn't gotten very good scores on the private school entrance exams. “But it's probably just as well,” she said now. “Everyone's so smart there. I'd be at the bottom of the class.”

“You're a lot smarter than you think you are. And definitely a lot smarter than most of the kids I know there.” I studied the outfit. “I don't know . . . should I go more summery? I have this new Alice and Olivia dress. . . .”

Heather wanted to see it, so I got it out and showed her. It was a simple yellow shift dress with a seventies kind of vibe.

“Wow,” she said. “You'd look amazing in that.”

“You don't think it's too dressy?”

“Wear it,” she said firmly. “It's the last first day of high school ever. That's huge.”

I got a lot of compliments on my dress at school on Tuesday. Also a lot of compliments on my hair. And on my brilliant comments in class. And on my smile and my shoes and my makeup and my car and my bag and, well, you can pretty much name it, and someone was complimenting me on it.

A new school year. The same old pattern.

I realized years earlier that I could be annoyed by the fact that people were so desperate to be my friend that they'd say anything to make me like them, or I could just shrug it off. I chose to shrug it off. It wasn't malicious and might not even have been entirely conscious; they just couldn't separate me from my connection to Luke Weston.

So I accepted the compliments without believing them and tried to use my social power for good. I wouldn't be friends with anyone who was mean or cliquish and I rallied people to join the Gay-Straight Alliance and Diversity Council and things like that. Teachers called me a “natural leader,” which only made me realize that the adults were as likely to fawn over me as the kids were. It didn't go to my head: I knew people weren't following me because I was so wildly charismatic; they
were following me because I was Luke Weston's stepdaughter and they all wanted to meet him.

I was most proud of having increased student participation in the Holiday-Giving Program by like tenfold or something ridiculous like that. My freshman year, I signed up to help out with the annual Christmas party at the shelter our school supported, and my closest friends all signed up too. Then the next year, I volunteered to head the gift drive, and got Riley to do it with me—of all my school friends, she was the most organized and reliable.

Luke and Mom came with me to that year's Christmas party, which totally freaked people out—everyone who went was giddy with delight at being at the same event as Luke Weston, and everyone who didn't go regretted it. Junior year, I ran the Christmas party and everyone assumed Luke would show up, so literally half the school signed up to bring presents and help out with games for the kids. Luke actually didn't come that year—he was in Chicago, shooting a remote segment for the show—but with all the help and donations, we had an incredible party, and I ended up being asked to co-run the entire program with another rising senior named Ben Simmons, who had run that year's gift drive.

Ben and I had texted a little over the summer and agreed we'd get together after the first day of school, along with Riley and Skyler, who I'd coaxed into co-running this year's Christmas party, and a junior named
Arianna Hawley, who Ben had put in charge of the gift drive, since she'd helped him the year before.

Ben took the meeting seriously, which I appreciated. He was there on time, was focused on making a plan, and had some good ideas.

Riley had briefly had a crush on him in eleventh grade—he was darkly good-looking in a sort of Joaquin Phoenix kind of way—but after she had spent some time with him at a party, she lost interest and said he was boring. He definitely didn't have much of a sense of humor, which would have been a deal breaker for me in a romance but was fine in someone I only needed to work with. We were pretty efficient as we put together a calendar of deadlines and events based on the previous year's schedule and this year's available dates supplied by the vice principal.

It all went smoothly except for one awkward moment, when Arianna suddenly said, “Oh, I was thinking we should get a celebrity parent to come to the party—I hear that one year Luke Weston showed up and people went nuts. If we could promise that he or someone like that would be there, everyone would sign up. How'd we get him?”

There was a slight pause and then Riley said, “Um . . . because of Ellie?”

“Do you know him personally?” Arianna asked me eagerly.

“He's her stepfather,” Riley said, and Skyler added, “They
live
together.”

“Oh, God.” Arianna's hand flew to her mouth and she gave a mortified laugh. “I am
so
sorry, Ellie. I didn't know. You have a different last name. No one told me,” she added with a glare at Ben.

“No problem,” I said.

“Will he come again this year?”

“I don't know. I'll invite him, but his schedule can be kind of crazy.”

As we were leaving the student center after the meeting, Arianna pulled me aside. “I just want to apologize again,” she said. “I must have sounded like such an idiot.”

“It's fine,” I said.

“I'm really excited to be working on this. Everyone says you're like the nicest senior girl at the school.”

I smiled and thanked her, but I felt a little tired.

She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me good-bye.

H
eather said, “I hate reading comprehension! You never have enough time to read the whole thing, and the questions try to trick you every way they can.” It was Sunday and I had invited her to join me for tutoring again. “And I don't see how you're supposed to study for it,” she went on. “They're going to give you completely different passages, so it's not like you can actually prepare.”

George said, “It's about having some strategies.”

“You always say that,” I told him.

“Oh, what's the point.” Heather slumped down in her chair. She was wearing a short full skirt and a tight knit top with puffy sleeves. She looked like a little schoolgirl, and the braids she was wearing only added to the impression. “I'm useless.”

“That's the spirit!” I said. “Give up before you've tried.”

“Shut up,” she said. “I'm not smart like you and we both know it.”

“I've just studied more than you have.” That was a total lie. I hadn't studied at all. I was good at reading comprehension because I read so much as a kid—there wasn't much else to do in our apartment when I was little. I didn't have a laptop and we didn't have cable or satellite TV. But Mom took me to the library every week, so I always had books. We'd curl up together and read for hours. Mom once said that even though she hadn't gone to college, she could keep up in a conversation with almost anyone who had, because of all the reading she did. “You can do this,” I told Heather. “Just a few more weeks of hard work and we'll be together for the next four years.”

“Or you'll go to
different
good schools,” George said.

I shook my head. “We're going to Elton together.”

“What other schools are you thinking about?” George asked Heather.

“I don't know. . . . My dad went to Steventon College. He wants me to apply there.”

“Oh, please,” I said. “You can do better than that.”

“It's a good school,” George said, an edge to his voice.

“Whatever. Heather and I are going to get into Elton early decision. I've already decided that.”

“It's not exactly up to you,” he said.

I shrugged. The truth was, I had a secret plan: I was going to ask Luke to call the school once we'd submitted our applications. He was
Luke Weston
; the school would be thrilled to get a call from him and they'd instantly push our applications through—especially if he offered to perform there at some point.

I knew this would work. He had gone with me on the tour of Coral Tree Prep when I was applying there for ninth grade, and everyone in the admissions and head offices came out to meet him and shake his hand after the tour had ended—and then, of course, I got in. It would be like that all over again.

But I wanted Heather to believe she could get in all on her own—she needed the self-confidence boost. So I just said, “You can do this. I know you can. But we both need to study hard. Give us another reading passage, George.” Heather and I bent our heads together over the laptop. “Done?” I asked her after a few moments.

“Not yet,” she said. Then, after a few more minutes: “It just doesn't make
sense
.”

I sat back in my seat, avoiding George's eyes.

A while later, Mom and Luke and Jacob came home from a trip to the park. Luke was wearing a baseball cap, dark sunglasses, and nondescript clothing, and it
occurred to me that celebrities and thieves dress a lot alike.

Mom put Jacob on a chair and dropped into another one, flinging out her legs and arms. “Thank God we're home. All he wanted to do was swing. We tried to get him to play with the other kids in the sand, but he kept screaming and kicking until we put him back on the swing.”

“At least no one recognized us,” Luke said.

“You are so oblivious,” she said. “There were two women who wouldn't stop staring at you and whispering.”

“They weren't taking photos of Jake, were they?”

“Oh, who cares?” she said, and I glanced up at that because I wasn't used to hearing that bitterness in her voice. What made Mom great—what had made our lives okay even when we lived in a crappy apartment and never had enough money and what had probably made Luke fall in love with her—was that she brought the fun. She laughed easily and saw the bright side of most things and didn't fret about the future. For someone who looked small and delicate and refined, she had a raucous laugh and a raunchy sense of humor. But now her face was taut with worry and it occurred to me that lately it was like that more often than not. “Photos aren't the issue here. The issue is that Jacob doesn't act like the other kids at the park.”

“He marches to his own beat.” Luke squeezed her shoulder. “That's good. Being different is good. I was the weird kid in all my high schools, and I haven't done so badly, have I?”

“It's not that kind of different,” she said, shifting away from his touch. “You wore eyeliner and had an earring. He's
not talking
. It's not a fashion choice—he literally can't talk.”

“You're making too big a deal out of this,” Luke said, letting his hand drop by his side. “He wanted to swing and he got what he wanted. More power to him.”

“It's not that simple,” she said. “I'm worried.” She appealed to me. “Right, Ellie? You see it, too, don't you?”

“I don't know. Jacob's a little weird, but he's just Jacob, you know?” I hated this conversation. I hated that she and Luke weren't agreeing, and I hated the thought that there could be something wrong with my little brother, and I just wanted her to agree with Luke so I didn't have to sit there hating those two things.

Mom's shoulders sagged like I had disappointed her.

I glanced around and realized that Heather and George had both retreated to the other side of the kitchen and were quietly talking to each other and giving us some space.

“Ellie gets it,” Luke said. He moved toward the doorway. “I'm going to go do some work.” He had a small
recording studio in the back of the house, lined with a bunch of expensive guitars on stands.

“Can you put a video on for Jacob in our room first?” Mom asked. “I'll be right up.” He carried Jacob out. Mom turned to me. “You still okay to babysit tonight?” she asked wearily.

“Yeah, no problem.” There was a babysitting agency Mom used when I had plans and Lorena wasn't available, but she preferred one of us to watch him. Jacob didn't always like strangers, and even though everyone at this agency knew CPR and had advanced degrees and had been handpicked from some heavenly sphere, sometimes Mom would come home after hiring a new babysitter to find Jacob curled up in a corner sobbing inconsolably.

For a while she just stopped going out at night—“They only really want Luke anyway,” she said—but then Luke's publicist said he was getting calls from bloggers trying to confirm the rumor that the Westons were getting a divorce because no one had seen them out together lately, and she felt bad. Plus Luke said he really didn't like going out without her.

So Mom went back to having a social life, but she begged me and Lorena to babysit as much as possible. I didn't mind. Heather was usually willing to come over to keep me company, and we were both happy just to watch movies in the screening room and eat popcorn.

Mom's phone buzzed and she read the text. “Crap. Roger's car isn't starting. He loves that stupid vintage Ford, but it's always breaking down. He's supposed to come tonight.” A couple of years ago, Mom saw some bad photos of herself in a tabloid and decided she needed to take her public appearance more seriously, so she started hiring a hair-and-makeup stylist to get her ready before big events. “Oh, wait! George?” she called across the room.

He came back to the table, trailed by Heather.

“Could you pick Roger up for me?” she asked. “He doesn't live that far away. No rush—you can finish up with the girls before you go. I just need him here before six. I'll pay for your time.”

“No problem,” George said. “And you don't have to pay me.”

“Yes, I do. Don't argue with me.”

“Can George pick up some food, too?” I asked. “There's nothing decent to eat in the house.”

“Good idea,” Mom said. “Is that okay, George?” He nodded and she said, “What do you want him to get, Ellie?”

“Maybe some sushi? Oh, and smoothies from Pressed Juicery. And ice cream from Sweet Rose.”

She waved her hand. “Just get whatever Ellie wants. Within reason. I'll text you Roger's address.” She got up and left the kitchen.

“Um, Heather?” I cocked my head at her. “What was that my mother just said? Something about how George should get me whatever I want?” I smiled sweetly at him. “I think I may have a hankering for a
lot
of different foods from some very far places.”

“She said,
Within reason
,” he pointed out. “I'll go to three places, max, and they have to be within a two-mile radius of one another.”

I pouted. “You make a really bad errand boy.”

“I'm okay with that,” he said.

Once we'd made the list, George successfully hunted-and-gathered everything—sushi from Sugarfish, drinks from Pressed Juicery, and ice cream from Sweet Rose Creamery. He also picked up Roger, who tore upstairs clutching his hair and makeup toolkits like he was a fireman entering a blazing house. He was a tall, ridiculously thin guy with bleached-blond hair parted on the side and combed flat against his head. He wore eyeliner and had three piercings in his left eyebrow and dressed in tight pants with loose tank tops, and was—according to Mom—a total “genius” with hair and makeup.

George entered at a more normal pace, carting the take-out bags.

“Food!” I jumped up and helped him get it all on the counter.

The intercom beeped and Mom's disembodied voice said, “Ellie, can you ask George if he can stick around and drive Roger home in an hour or so? We'll pay him for his time, of course.”

“Of course,” I said to George.

“I can stay,” he shouted at the intercom as he dumped the bags on the counter.

“It works better if you push the speak button.” I pointed at the monitor.

“Right.” He went over and touched the screen and repeated his response.

My phone vibrated on the table. Heather was sitting nearby and glanced down at it. “It's from Aaron. He says he can't come tonight and he's sorry.” She looked up. “I thought I was going to help you babysit tonight.”

“You are. I invited him over so you guys could finally meet. But I guess it's not going to happen.”

George headed toward the hallway. “I'm going to Starbucks,” he said.

“Why not just make a cup here?”

“I want to get some work done. Tell Roger to text me when he's ready to go, and I'll come back and grab him. If I don't see you when I get back, don't forget to work through the pages I gave you before Wednesday.”

“George, George,” I chided him gently. “When have I ever once done the homework you wanted me to?”

“Never.”

“Then why do you foolishly persist in thinking that I will?”

“I know there's a responsible person in there somewhere. I'm just waiting to meet her.” He slipped out the doorway.

“You wouldn't like her,” I called after him. “She's boring.”

“I like boring,” he called back, and kept going.

“Of course you do,” I said, but he was already gone.