I was pretty sure Wesley wouldn’t approach me at school. Why would he? It wasn’t like he’d miss me… even if I really, really wanted him to. He wasn’t losing anything. He had plenty of replacement girls ready and willing to fill any gaps I might have left in his schedule. So there was no need for an avoidance plan on Monday morning.
Except that I didn’t even want to see him. If I had to look at him day after day, I could never hope to forget about him. I could never hope to move on. For this situation, I did need a plan, and I had one all lined up.
Step one: keep distracted in the hallway in case he passed me.
Step two: stay busy in English and never look over at his side of the classroom.
Step three: speed out of the parking lot in the afternoon so I didn’t run into him.
Dad made step three possible by fixing my car Sunday, so I was sure I could keep from seeing Wesley. In a matter of weeks, I’d be able to put our relationship—or lack thereof—out of my mind. If not, well, we’d graduate in May and I’d never have to look at that cocky smirk ever again.
That was the theory, anyway.
But by the time the final bell rang on Monday, I knew my plan sucked ass. Not looking at Wesley didn’t necessarily equal not thinking of Wesley. In fact, I spent most of my day thinking about not looking at him. Then I just thought about all the reasons I shouldn’t be thinking of him. It never freaking ended!
Nothing seemed to distract me.
Until Tuesday afternoon.
I was on my way to lunch after an unbearably long AP government class when something happened that gave me just the distraction I needed.
Something unbelievable and shocking. Something pretty damn awesome.
Toby fell into step with me in the hallway. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi.” I did my best to sound at least halfway pleasant. “What’s up, Harvard Boy?”
Toby grinned and looked down, shuffling his feet. “Not much,” he said. “Just trying to decide what to write about for the editorial assignment. Mr. Chaucer wasn’t very specific. What are you going to write yours about?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I’m thinking of doing it on gay marriage.” “Supporting or opposing?”
“Oh, definitely supporting. I mean, the government has no right to dictate who can and can’t publicly declare their love for each other.”
“How romantic of you,” Toby said.
I snorted. “Hardly. I’m not romantic at all, but it’s basic logic. Denying homosexuals the right to marriage infringes on their liberty and equality.
Pretty screwed up.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Toby agreed. “It seems we have a lot in common.” “I guess we do.”
We walked for a couple of seconds in silence before he asked, “So, do you have any plans for prom?”
“No,” I told him. “I’m not going. Why pay two hundred bucks for a dress, thirty for a ticket, forty for hair and makeup, and a handful more for dinner, where all you can have is a salad with no dressing because you have to avoid getting gunk on the poufy dress? It’s kind of ridiculous.”
“I see,” Toby said. “That’s a little unfortunate…. I was kind of hoping you’d go with me.”
Okay, so I hadn’t seen that coming. At all. Ever. Toby Tucker, the boy I’d crushed on for years, wanted to ask me to prom? Oh my God. Oh my God.
And I’d totally bashed the whole institution of high school dances like an opinionated idiot. I’d practically rejected him without even meaning to. Oh, shit. I was a moron. A complete moron. And now I was at a loss for words. What did I say? Did I apologize or take it back or—
“But it’s fine if you feel that way,” Toby said. “I’ve always thought prom was a pointless rite of passage, so we’re on the same page.”
“Uh, yeah,” I said lamely.
Oh, someone fucking shoot me right now!
“But,” Toby pressed, “are you opposed to regular dates? Ones without poufy dresses or crappy salads?”
“No. I don’t have a problem with those.”
My head was spinning. Toby wanted me to go on a date with him. A date! I hadn’t been on a real date since… Hell, I’d never been on a real date. Unless you counted making out with Jake in the back of a movie theater a date.
I didn’t.
But why? Why would Toby want to go on a date with me? I was the Duff. Duffs don’t get dates. Not real ones. Yet Toby was defying the odds. Maybe he was a bigger man than most. Just like how I’d always imagined him in my stupid, girly, midclass daydreams. Not shallow. Not conceited. Not cocky or vain. A perfect gentleman.
“That’s good,” he said. “In that case…” I could tell he was nervous. His cheeks were turning pink, and he was staring at his shoes and playing with his glasses. “Friday? Would you like to go out with me on Friday night?”
“I’d like…”
Then the inevitable happened. I thought of the douche bag. The playboy. The womanizer. The one person who could ruin this moment for me. Yes, I had a crush on Toby Tucker. How could I not? He was sweet and charming and smart… but my feelings for Wesley were way beyond that. I’d skipped the crush kiddie pool and jumped right into the deep, shark-infested ocean of emotions. And, if you’ll forgive the dramatic metaphor, I was a lousy swimmer.
But Casey had told me to move on, and here Toby was, tossing me a float and offering to save me from drowning. I’d be stupid not to accept. God only knew how long it might be before another rescue party came along.
And, come on, Toby was adorable.
“I’d like that,” I said, hoping my pause hadn’t freaked him out too much. “Great.” He sounded relieved. “I’ll pick you up at seven Friday night.” “Cool.”
We separated in the cafeteria, and I think I skipped—yeah, skipped like a little kid—to the lunch table, my bad mood totally forgotten.
And it stayed forgotten.
For the rest of that week, I didn’t think about how I shouldn’t be thinking of Wesley. I didn’t think of Wesley at all. Not once. My brain was too full of things like What should I wear? and How should I fix my hair? All the stuff I’d never worried about before. Talk about surreal.
But those were the things that Casey and Jessica were experts on, so they came home with me on Friday afternoon, and they were eager to make me their own personal Barbie doll. If I hadn’t been so nervous about this date, I would have been horrified, my feminist sensibilities offended at their preening and squealing.
They forced me into, like, twenty different outfits (all of which I hated) before deciding on one. I wound up in a knee-length black skirt and a low-cut turquoise blouse, cut just low enough that you could make out the curve of my tiny boobs. Then they spent the rest of the time using a flatiron on my unwilling hair. It took them two hours—that’s no exaggeration, by the way— to get it all straight.
It was already six-fifty when they placed me in front of the mirror to examine their work.
“Perfect,” Casey announced. “Cute!” Jessica agreed.
“See, B,” Casey said. “All of that Duff shit is ridiculous. You look freaking smoking right now.”
“What Duff shi—uh, stuff?” Jessica asked. “Nothing,” I said.
“B thinks she’s the ugly one.”
“What?” Jessica cried. “Bianca, do you really think that?” “It’s not a big deal.”
“She does,” Casey said. “She told me so.”
“But you’re not, Bianca,” Jessica insisted. “How could you think that?” “Jessica, don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s no big—”
“I know,” Casey said. “Isn’t it stupid? Isn’t she hot, Jess?” “She’s super-hot.”
“See, B. You’re super-hot.”
I sighed. “Thanks, guys.” Time for a subject change. “So, um, how are you getting home? I can’t take you if Toby is picking me up in ten minutes. Are your parents coming to get you?”
“Oh, no,” Jessica said. “We aren’t leaving.” “What?”
“We’ll be here when you get back from your date,” Casey informed me. “Then we’re having an ultra-girly, tell-all slumber party in honor of our B’s first big date.”
“Yep,” Jessica chirped.
I gawked at them. “You’re not serious.”
“Do we look like we’re kidding?” Casey asked.
“But what will you do while I’m gone? Won’t you be bored or whatever?” “You have TV,” Jessica reminded me.
“And that’s all we really need,” Casey said. “We already called your dad.
You don’t have a choice.”
The doorbell rang before I could argue any further, and my friends practically pushed me down the stairs. Once we were in the living room, they started straightening my skirt and adjusting the collar of my shirt, attempting to maximize the amount of cleavage I was showing.
“You’re going to have such a good time,” Casey sighed happily, pushing some hair behind my ear. “You’ll be over Wesley in no time.”
My stomach clenched.
“Shh… Casey…,” Jessica murmured. I knew Casey had told her the whole story by now, but she hadn’t said anything to me about it, which I appreciated. I really just wanted to keep my mind as far from Wesley as possible.
I hadn’t spoken to him since the morning I’d left his house. He’d tried to talk to me once or twice after English, though. I just avoided him, starting up
conversations with Jessica or Casey and rushing out of the class as fast as I could.
“OMG, sorry,” Casey said, biting her lip. “I didn’t think.” She cleared her throat awkwardly and scratched the back of her head, ruffling her short hair.
“Have fun!” Jessica chimed, forcing the uncomfortable pause away. “But, you know, not too much fun. My parents might not like you so much if I have to bail you out of jail.”
I laughed. Only Jessica could save us from these awkward moments with such bubbly grace.
I looked at Casey, and I could see a spark of fear in her eye. She wanted me to move on after Wesley, but I knew she was worried. Worried I’d leave her behind again. Worried Toby would replace her.
But she had nothing to be afraid of. This was totally different from my relationship with Wesley. I wasn’t running anymore. Not from reality. Not from my friends. Not from anything.
I smiled to reassure her.
“Go! Go!” Jessica squealed, her blond ponytail swinging as she bounced excitedly.
“Yeah,” Casey said, smiling back at me. “Don’t keep the boy waiting.”
They shoved me forward and disappeared back upstairs in a fit of giggles and whispers.
“Freaks,” I muttered, shaking my head and fighting a small giggle. I took a deep breath and pulled open the door. “Hey, Toby.”
He stood on my front porch, looking as cute as always in his navy blazer and khaki pants. He looked like a Kennedy. With a bowl cut. He gave me a big boyish smile that showed off all his ivory teeth. “Hi,” he said, shifting to stand in front of me. He’d been waiting off to one side of the door. “Sorry. I decided to wait. I heard giggling.”
“Oh,” I glanced over my shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about that.” “Wow. You look beautiful, Bianca.”
“No, I don’t,” I said, totally embarrassed. No guy but my dad had ever said that to me before.
“Of course you do,” he said. “Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know.” Oh, wow, I was lame. Why couldn’t I just take a compliment? What if I sent him running before we even started the date? God, that would be shitty. I cleared my throat and tried to look like I wasn’t inwardly slapping myself.
“So are you ready to go?” Toby asked. “Yeah.”
I stepped outside and shut the door behind me. Toby took my arm and led
me down the sidewalk to his silver Taurus. He even opened the passenger’s door for me, like boys do in those old movies. Very classy. I couldn’t help wondering, again, why on earth he was interested in me. He put the key in the ignition and turned to smile at me. His smile was definitely his best feature.
So I smiled back, feeling the little butterflies flutter around in the pit of my stomach.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said.
“Starved,” I lied, knowing very well that I was way too nervous to eat.
By the time we left Giovanni’s, a tiny Italian restaurant in Oak Hill, I’d become a little more comfortable. My nerves were dying down, and I’d even managed to eat a small bowl of meatless spaghetti. We were laughing and talking, and I was enjoying myself so much that I didn’t want the date to be over when Toby paid the bill. Lucky for me, he felt the same way.
“You know,” he said as the bells on the door jingled behind us. “It’s only nine-thirty. I don’t have to take you home yet… unless you want to go home, which is fine, of course.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not in a hurry to go home. But what do you want to do?”
“Well, we can walk,” Toby suggested. He gestured down the sidewalk that ran alongside the busy street. “It’s not very exciting, but we can window-shop or talk or—”
I smiled at him. “Walking sounds fun.” “Wonderful.”
He looped his arm in mine, and we began to stroll down the well-lit sidewalk. We’d passed a couple small shops before either of us spoke. Thank God he opened his mouth first because, even though I wasn’t that nervous anymore, I had no clue what I could say that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete goofball.
“Well, since you know all about my college situation, I want to know about yours. Have you applied anywhere yet?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ve applied to a couple, but I haven’t picked one yet. I guess I’m kind of procrastinating.”
“Do you know what you’ll major in?”
“Probably journalism,” I said. “I don’t know, though. I’ve always wanted to be a reporter for the New York Times. So I applied to a couple of schools in Manhattan.”
“The Big Apple,” he said, nodding. “Ambitious.”
“Yeah, well, watch me end up like that girl in The Devil Wears Prada,” I said. “A complete loser working at some stupid fashion magazine when all I
really want to do is write about world events or interview revolutionary congressmen… like you’ll be.”
He beamed at me. “Oh, you wouldn’t be a complete loser.”
“Whatever,” I laughed. “Can you imagine me writing about fashion? An industry where size fours are considered fat? No way. I’d wind up committing suicide.”
“Something tells me you’d be good at anything you tried,” he said. “Something tells me you’re kissing my ass a little bit there, Toby.”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but not much. You’re pretty great, Bianca. You tell it like it is, you don’t seem like you’re afraid to be yourself, and you’re a Democrat. That makes you awesome in my book.”
Okay, so I blushed. Can you blame me? “Thank you, Toby.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for.”
Wow. Was he perfect or what? Cute, polite, funny… and he liked me for some unknown reason. It was like we were made for each other. Like he had the puzzle piece that fit with mine. Could I get any luckier?
A cold March breeze was blowing, and I began regretting that I’d let Casey and Jessica dress me. They’d never been seasonably sensible when it came to clothing. My bare legs were freezing (they hadn’t let me wear panty hose), and the thin material of my blouse definitely didn’t shield me from the wind. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself in an effort to warm up.
“Oh, here,” Toby said. He pulled off his blazer, just like boys are supposed to do, and held it out for me. “You should have told me you were cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t be silly.” He helped me slide into the sleeves. “Honestly, I’d rather not be dating a Popsicle.”
Dating? I mean, this was a date, but were we dating now? I’d never dated anyone, so I wasn’t really sure. Either way, hearing him say that made me very happy… and strangely nervous at the same time.
Toby turned me around and adjusted the blazer around my neck and shoulders.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
We were standing in front of an old antiques store, its windows illuminated by the light of fancy, old-fashioned lamps, like the ones my grandpa had in his living room. The glow spilled onto Toby’s angular face, glinting off the rims of his glasses and highlighting his almond-shaped eyes… which were staring down at me.
His fingers still lingered on the collar of the blazer. Then his hand slid up from my shoulder to my jaw. His thumb grazed my cheek, stroking it over
and over again. He leaned toward me slowly, giving me plenty of time to stop him if I wanted to. Yeah, right! As if I would dream of it.
And he kissed me. Not a make-out kiss, but not just a peck either. It was a real kiss. Gentle and sweet and long. The kind of kiss I’d wanted to share with Toby Tucker since I was fifteen years old, and it felt exactly like I’d always imagined it would. His lips were soft and warm, and the way they moved against mine made the butterflies in my belly go berserk.
Okay. I know, I know. I think PDA is gross and immature, but come on. I was a little too distracted to care who might be watching. So, yeah, I put my usual values aside for a second and wrapped my arms around his neck. I mean, I could always go back to my crusade against public make-outs in the morning.
I slipped into the house around eleven o’clock that night and found Dad waiting for me on the sofa. He smiled at me and muted the TV. “Hey, Bumblebee.”
“Hi, Dad.” I shut and locked the front door. “How was your meeting?” “Strange,” Dad admitted. “It’s weird being back again… but I’ll get used
to it. What about you? How was your date?”
“Amazing,” I sighed. God, I couldn’t stop smiling. Dad was probably going to think I’d had a lobotomy or something.
“That’s good,” Dad said. “Tell me again, who did you go out with? Sorry. I can’t remember his name.”
“Toby Tucker.”
“Tucker?” Dad repeated. “You mean Chaz Tucker’s son? Oh, that’s great, Bumblebee. Chaz is a good guy. He’s the technology director for a company downtown, so he comes into the store all the time. Wonderful family. I’m glad to hear his son’s a nice kid, too.”
“He is,” I said.
The sound of shuffling came from upstairs, and we both glanced up at the ceiling. “Oh.” Dad shook his head and looked back at me. “I almost forgot about them. They’ve been suspiciously quiet all night.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I should get up there before Casey has an aneurysm. See you in the morning, Dad.”
“Okay,” Dad said. He reached for the remote and turned up the volume on the television. “Good night, Bumblebee.”
I’d danced halfway up the stairs before Dad called out to me again. “Hey, Bumblebee?”
I paused and leaned against the banister, looking down at the living room. “Yeah?”
“Whatever happened to Wesley?”
I froze, feeling myself choke a little. “W-What?”
“Your friend. The one who, um… was with you that night.” He looked up at me from the couch, readjusting his glasses. “You don’t talk about him much.”
“We don’t hang out anymore,” I told him, using that voice that made it clear he shouldn’t ask questions. All teenage girls know that voice and use it on their fathers frequently. Usually, the unspoken order is followed. My father loved me, but he knew better than to delve into the drama of my high school experience.
Smart Dad.
“Oh… I was just wondering.”
“Bianca!” My bedroom door flew open, and Jessica, dressed in neon orange pajamas, leapt out of my room. She sprinted halfway down the stairs and grabbed me by the arm. “Stop making us wait! Come tell us everything.”
The way Jessica was beaming almost pushed Dad’s mention of Wesley from my mind.
Almost.
“Goodnight, Mr. Piper!” Jessica yelled as she dragged me to my bedroom.
After a few steps, my feet picked up again and I reminded myself that I’d just had the best date ever with the guy of my dreams. I felt myself succumbing to the giddy joy my best friends expressed as soon as I walked into the room. Squealing, jumping, cheering…
I had the right to be happy about this. Even we cynics deserved a night off once in a while, right?
