Breaking Up Is Hard To Do (Miracle Girls Book 2) Page 6

  “I like what I’m wearing.”

  “But do you like it as much as this?” Zoe asks and hands a white T-shirt up to the front. She bites her lip.

  I hold up the shirt in the morning light. It’s just a basic white men’s undershirt with some wonky hand lettering on it.

  “We argued about what it should say for weeks,” Riley says.

  “Do you like it?” Zoe asks.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Riley laughs. “She’s wearing it no matter what, even if I have to pin her down and pull it over her head myself.”

  In black block letters, it says, “It’s my birthday.”

  “Thanks, guys.” I chuckle, thinking of them trying to make the shirt.

  “Turn it around,” Zoe says, nudging me.

  I turn the shirt around and see that the back of it says, “Woo.”

  “Now that’s a birthday shirt.”

  “Happy birthday, freak.” Ana laughs.

  “Thanks, God Girl.” I salute her.

  I look around the parking lot and realize that changing is not going to be so easy. The bell is going to ring any minute, and people are swarming in the parking lot. “Cover the windows. Quick.”

  They all hop out and stand by the windows as I duck way down in the seat and change as quickly as possible into my T-shirt. It’s way too big, but it’s perfect. I get out of the car and double-check twice that I’ve locked all the doors and hug all the girls for good measure.

  There’s a little bounce in my step as I head toward first period. Maybe there is hope for us after all. Now that I can drive, things will be different. I’ll be able to hold us all together.

  12

  “So how’s the driving going?” Ms. Moore says.

  “Fine. Haven’t killed anyone yet, though this morning I think my bumper was checking out Ashley Anderson’s butt.” I will the minute hand of the clock to move faster. I think Ms. Moore believes we’ve made what she would call progress today. I slipped up is the truth and told her that Candace and Emma moved in and how they made me this huge nauseating birthday breakfast, and Ms. Moore nearly swooned. I never talk about home, so she was positively elated, but now I’m regretting it.

  “You know, I’m supposed to report threats of violence like that.” She lifts an eyebrow at me.

  “Don’t bother.” I look at the clock again. Hurry up, space-time continuum. “My aim’s not that good yet. Her butt is big, sure, but I couldn’t promise I’d hit it.”

  “Is there something interesting on the wall behind me?”

  “It’s nothing personal.”

  I start drumming my fingers. I think Ms. Moore would be really disappointed if she knew why I’m anxious to leave. I haven’t seen Andrew anywhere and tracking him down is absolutely vital. He was supposed to see my T-shirt and, I don’t know, do something dramatic, like kiss me, or show up with a surprise present because Riley told him it was my birthday. Something. Anything.

  “Fine,” Ms. Moore stands up and begins to pack up her things. “Off you go then.”

  I pop out of my chair. “Really?”

  She tilts her head to me. “Yes, really. Happy birthday, Christine.”

  I grab my stuff and dodge a few stacks of books on the floor as I make my way to the door.

  “But think about what I said about Candace.”

  I freeze, holding the round, brass doorknob. Ms. Moore’s lesson of the day #345 was: Try to judge people by their intentions, not by their actions. Her theory is that Candace is trying and that should count for something, but my point is that she’s trying to take my mom’s place, and therefore she must be stopped.

  “Cool.” I turn back.

  She gives me a slow wave, studying my face. I shake off her piercing stare, open the door, then peal out into the front office hallway and walk toward the exit. I probably have just enough time to stop by the gym to get a soda before art class, aka to see if Andrew is hanging out in that horrible little sweat box.

  I hear a familiar laugh, look up, and my heart instantly begins to slam. It’s him. Andrew.

  “Yeah, they put you in this machine, and you have to be totally still.” He runs his fingers through his hair. I love the way he does that.

  I slow my approach, trying to formulate a plan to talk to him, but his back is to me, which is a huge problem. Short of pretending to trip and falling into him, he’s not going to see me pass by, and there are office workers buzzing around the halls, meaning that I can’t very well stand still and wait for him to stop chatting with the registrar.

  Andrew pushes something across the counter. “Here’s my official note.”

  The registrar slides her glasses down her nose and smiles at him like a long-lost grandson. “Oh dear. I hope everything is all right. You won’t miss the big homecoming dance, will you?”

  As he explains his knee troubles, I am just five feet away. Can I tap him on the shoulder as I pass? Okay, yes. That’s what I’ll do.

  “It may impair my dancing, but it was never very good anyway.” He laughs. “The doctors said everything will be fine. I just need to take it easy until the spring season.” He keeps talking as I approach his side, and if I touch him now, I’ll interrupt him. It will be so awkward. I can’t.

  I crawl past him slower than a slug and drag my feet until I get outside. In the breezeway, I slam my back against the brick wall.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” I bang the back of my head on the wall. How could I have done that? I blew it. He was right there, and I could have said hi. I stare up at the breezeway’s cracked, stained concrete ceiling and bang my head more for good measure.

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting into head banging now.”

  I freeze. I don’t even want to see who it is. I mean, I know who it is, but how much more embarrassing can I be?

  I look at Andrew, my ears burning. “Just a little. Some light head banging.”

  He laughs. “Hey, wait a minute.”

  I smile from ear to ear. He’s seen the T-shirt. I could kiss the Miracle Girls.

  “Okay, twirl for me.”

  I spin around, happy to oblige so that he knows I’m not wearing some stupid sappy shirt that any old girl might have. No, this shirt is me.

  He laughs. “I wish I had known it was your birthday.” He loops an arm around my shoulder as if it’s no big deal and my spine feels like Jell-O. “I’ll walk you to class to make up for it.”

  I turn my head to talk to him but realize that when I do our faces are so close I can almost feel the heat off his. My stomach does flips.

  “Cool.” I focus on not tripping. Should I put my arm around him? No, too personal. Right now this is still pretty buddy-like. Who knows what he means?

  “Cool,” he says and smiles.

  For a moment, we walk in awkward silence, and I panic because I don’t want to be that shy girl who’s boring to be around. His knee. I should talk about his knee. That’s a good topic. “So your knee is okay? You’ll still be able to make it to the homecoming dance? I know some cheerleaders who would be terribly upset if you couldn’t.” Riley and her peppy cohorts have been littering the school with posters for the big game and dance. I tried to bet the other Miracle Girls, half the people in my art class, and some kids in my gym class that Riley will win Sophomore Homecoming Princess, but no one was willing to bet against her. She’s the unstoppable Riley McGee.

  Andrew laughs. “Believe it or not, I don’t go out of my way to attend dances.” I try not to smile, but the idea of him not going to the dance makes me very happy.

  “But seriously, your knee? You’re okay?”

  Andrew starts telling me all about the MRI machine and how badly he wanted to sneeze the moment they put him in there, but the bell rings, and almost immediately the courtyard fills with people changing classes, and he jiggles his arm a little. For a second I think he might move it away so no one at Marina Vista will realize he likes me, or that he even knows me, but much to my relief his arm stays put. The stares I feel as we
weave through the crowds make me want to sing.

  “Well, here we are.” Andrew finally moves his arm and sweeps it over the art building.

  We’re here? We can’t be here yet. Can I pretend I left something in my car? “Um, right.”

  ”Shall we go in?” He grins at e.

  “I guess so.”

  He grins sheepishly. “I don’t suppose you’d want to get together…

  “I—“

  “My youth group is doing this stupid ’70s bowling night thing next weekend, and I thought, you know, it might be your kind of thing.”

  My kind of thing? I hate youth group. Why did he think I would—? Ohhh . . . it’s because I hang out with the Miracle Girls. He thinks I’m . . .

  “But you have to dress up because I found this amazing old suit in my dad’s closet, and I don’t want to be the only one.”

  Should I tell him I hate church? That I’m not what he thinks?

  He shakes his hair out of his eyes, and I worry that I might swoon like a lady in an old-fashioned movie.

  “Yes,” I say. “Cool. It sounds . . . really awesome.”

  13

  “Oooh.” I lean back into the couch and hold my stomach gingerly. I’ve never eaten so much cake in my life. Emma is jumping up and down in front of me, doing wonders for my nausea. Sugar makes me sick, but it’s her fuel.

  “Sometimes Sylvie and I like to take cake and ice cream and mash it all together.” She starts hopping on two feet, like a bunny.

  “Christine?” Dad calls from the kitchen.

  “She’s not here,” I yell back.

  Dad and Candace come in beaming at each other. At this rate, I’m going to have another sibling exactly nine months after they get married.

  “Come on.” Dad pulls at my arms. “Candace had a nice idea. Let’s all go outside and take a picture on the steps together before the sun goes down.”

  “My dad has a photography lab in his new house,” Emma says to no one in particular as Dad pulls his camera off the counter and begins to shove me out the door. “He built it himself, and he can develop his own film.”

  “Emma,” Candace says and gives her daughter a look.

  Emma plays dumb. “What?”

  Dad pushes me right up to the front door. “No more cake,” I moan. “No more ice cream.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He opens the door and shoves me out. I walk into the yard, notice something different, and freeze.

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Emma screams so close to my ear that it starts to ring. She grabs me in a hug.

  “Do you like it?” Dad wrinkles his brow.

  I realize that I’m standing completely still, staring at the car in our driveway with a blank face. A car? A car!

  I jump into his arms and hold him tight. “I love it, I love it, I love it!” I push him away and run to check out the old beater, a boxy Volvo from the early nineties. I run my fingers along the worn paint job and admire the dent in the front. “It’s so perfect! I never thought . . . and then I thought if you did that it would be something brand-new and cheesy.”

  Dad laughs. “Well, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He takes Candace’s hand and pulls her into a hug. “And I have to give credit where credit is due.” Emma runs over, jumps into the passenger seat, and buckles herself in. I open the door and admire the fuzzy interior and inhale the great worn smell.

  “I almost bought you the newest Audi convertible but—”

  “An Audi?!” I freeze. “Oh, that would have been horrible.”

  Candace laughs. “You see, James. I told you so.”

  I stand dead still, squinting at Candace, then at my Dad.

  “Candace said the Audi was all wrong for you.” He turns to her and smiles. “She convinced me to skip it and then helped me find this car for you.”

  Candace gives me a weak smile. I turn away and climb into the car, then shut the door behind me.

  ***

  “Does this movie ever end?” Ana says for the millionth time. “How long can they possible make us look at sand?”

  “This movie won a ton of Academy Awards when it came out.” I toss a handful of popcorn into my mouth.

  “They must not have had much going on back then.” She puts her feet up on the seat in front of her.

  “No wonder there was no line at the snack bar,” Zoe says as she takes a sip of her Dr. Pepper.

  “I’m sure the end makes it all worth it.” I’m trying to remain optimistic. So far this movie is perfect for insomniacs, but there must be a reason people liked it so much back in the day.

  “I’m not going to make it to the end.” Ana throws a piece of popcorn at the screen just as the camera pans to a shot of a camel walking across the desert—again.

  I’ve always wanted to catch a movie at the old theater on the outskirts of town, and it seemed like an appropriately grown-up thing to do to celebrate my birthday. But apparently they only show artsy movies here, and after sitting through two and a half hours of Lawrence of Arabia with no end in sight, I’m starting to understand why we are the only ones here.

  “I wonder if I could get Ed to get me a pet camel,” Zoe says .

  “Am I the only one watching this thing?” Riley asks.

  “Yes,” the rest of us say in unison.

  “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” Riley slouches down in her seat. “Can you pass the Skittles?” I sling the jumbo-sized bag at her.

  To be honest, it’s not really bothering me that this is apparently the most boring movie ever made. I’m sixteen, I got asked on a real date, I got the coolest car ever for my birthday, and all of my favorite girls are accounted for. I could die happy.

  “Hey, Riley, what did you get on the trig test?” Ana pulls a compact out of her purse and makes sure she doesn’t have anything in her teeth.

  “Ugh.” Riley shudders and tosses a handful of Skittles into her mouth. “Cosines are still haunting me in my sleep. Let’s talk about something other than school.” She swallows a big glob. “I have an announcement, actually. I, uh—” She coughs a little. “I think I have a boyfriend.”

  Normally this would elicit screams and cheers from us, but we are silent. I glance at Ana, who is pursing her lips. Zoe is gripping her hands in her lap. Are they as afraid as I am that this means we’ll see less of Riley?

  “Oh,” I say, trying to make my voice sound bright. “Tom, right?”

  Riley looks around and blinks. She seems a little puzzled at our lack of response. “Yeah. I want you guys to hang out with him soon.” Her tongue is black from all the Skittles she ate. “I think you’ll really like him.”

  Ana shrugs. “Okay, maybe we can all hang out, like at church or something.” She flashes a smile, but her taut lips make it seem a little forced. “I’m not really supposed to meet boys places.”

  “That would be fun,” Zoe says, a little too loudly. “You should have him come next Sunday. Even Christine’s going to come, right, Christine?”

  “Actually,” Riley clears her throat before I can break it to Zoe that there is no way I’m coming next week. “He’s not really religious so . . .”

  “What?!” Ana almost chokes on a piece of popcorn.

  Zoe shoves a handful of Skittles into her mouth and begins to chew furiously.

  “Plus, since he lives in San Francisco, it would be hard for him to get down here on a school night.” Riley’s voice wavers a little.

  “Well, I’m sure we can all hang out another time,” I say quickly. There. Saved him and me.

  “Look,” Ana says and puts a hand on Riley’s knee. “I say this in love.” Ana squares her shoulders. “Dump him.”

  “What?!” Riley shakes her head. She turns to me, her eyes wide. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “It’s for your own good. The Bible says not to date non-Christians.” Ana makes a sympathetic face, but I wonder if there’s more than care for a friend going on.

  Riley presses her palms to her face. “I don’t think it does
say that exactly. That’s what people always tell you, but that’s not really in there anywhere. I looked.”

  Ana points at me. “You don’t see Christine dating non-Christians. She’s with Andrew.” Ana smiles at me.

  “I’m not really with Andrew. We’re just going to a— ”

  “And even Zoe has Marcus.”

  “I don’t have Marcus,” Zoe says, leaning forward. “Take it back. We’re not together. I don’t even like him.”

  “But still,” Ana says, shaking her head. “I’m worried about you, Riley. What if he gets you involved in . . . bad things?” Tom seems okay to me, but Ana might have a point. We’ve never asked what goes on at the parties Riley goes to with her popular friends, and maybe that’s because we’re afraid to hear her answer. I suppose we all feel a little protective of her.

  Riley looks at her lap. “I didn’t plan it. It just sort of happened, and we’re only going out and having fun right now.” Riley studies her nails for a moment. “It feels . . . okay. He’s a really great guy.”

  Ana bites her lip. “I don’t know how I’d survive without Dave’s support.”

  “Tom’s a good person, Ana.”

  Ana looks like she’s going to say more but then stops herself. The people on the screen begin arguing with one another, and my thoughts drift from Tom and Riley to my own problems. I’d wondered what the Miracle Girls would think if they found out that I don’t really believe in God, and I suppose now I know.

  Zoe clears her throat and breaks the awkward silence. “Um, did I tell you guys what Marcus did?”

  I smile at Zoe. She can’t bear to see us fight and is willing to do just about anything to change the subject, including throwing herself under the bus here.

  “You won’t believe it.” Zoe wiggles her eyebrows, egging us on. She knows we live for details about the bizarre Farcus family.

  I decide to play along, hoping to reestablish peace. “What?”

  “He came over with a picture of my favorite tree and—”