Breaking Up Is Hard To Do (Miracle Girls Book 2) Page 9

  A few couples are starting to hit the dance floor when Emma grabs my arm.

  “Christine.” Emma’s lip quivers as she clutches at her stomach. “I, um, don’t feel so good.” Her skin is a lovely shade of green.

  I grab her by the shoulders and steer her quickly through the crowd. “It’s okay. Hold on.” I make a beeline for the bathroom, knocking into a few people on the way. At least the carpet has a busy floral pattern. If we don’t make it, the stains won’t show too much.

  I shove the heavy door open with my shoulder and sigh in relief when I realize the ornate bathroom is vacant. I swing open the door to the handicap stall and pull up the seat, and immediately Emma empties the chocolate contents of her stomach.

  I rub her back and try to remember what my mom did when I was sick. A rag! She’d get a cool rag. I leave the stall and grab a towel from the stack folded in a basket on the bank of sinks. Only at the Ritz would they have real towels to dry your hands. I run the towel under the cool water and try to ignore the puking noises behind me. It’s a good thing I don’t have a weak stomach. I’ll bet Zoe would be puking in the next stall over if she heard this.

  I walk back to the stall, shut the door, flush the brown chocolate and marshmallow mess, and plop down next to Emma on the cool marble floor. It would be gross in any other bathroom in the world, but it feels like you could eat dinner off the floor here.

  I put the rag to her head. “Thank you,” she mumbles. I shrug because really it’s no big deal. Anyone in my place would have done the same. Emma tries to laugh. “I don’t want to eat chocolate for a year.”

  “Yeah right.”

  She begins to push herself up, but the bathroom door bursts open, and high-pitched voices invade our little sanctuary. High heels click on the smooth marble, and we both fall quiet. I don’t want to embarrass the poor kid. It’s pretty humiliating to throw up at your first fancy party.

  “All I know is that Naomi must be turning over in her grave.”

  My ears prick at the sound of my mother’s name. They must think they’re alone.

  “Really,” a different voice says. “I don’t know what James can be thinking. Candace seems a bit common, right?”

  I push myself up, trying to hear better, but I don’t recognize the voices. I should burst out of this stall right now and rain down a flood of curse words on them so vicious and nasty that they’ll be ashamed of themselves for the rest of their lives, but morbid curiosity keeps me quiet and still.

  “If I had known he was available, I would have bumped into him around town, if you know what I mean.”

  I look down. The floor isn’t really as bright white as I thought. It’s actually kind of beige.

  The women giggle, and I can hear one peeing while another seems to be doing her makeup because I hear the sound of a compact opening and closing.

  “He’s very good-looking.”

  Beige with interesting swirls and bumps in it. Marble is actually quite beautiful if you really look at it.

  “Definitely.” The woman coughs a little. “But I was going to give him a year to grieve. I thought it’d take him longer than this to recover.”

  How dare they talk about my mom like that? And my dad for that matter? He isn’t over my mom! Can’t they see that?! That’s what this stupid Candace thing is all about. I should come out now and give it to them.

  I hear a toilet flushing; then a stall door opens and a faucet turns on. “Well, that Candace is smarter than I gave her credit for.”

  Emma reaches out and puts a hand on my arm, but I don’t turn. I never realized how cold and hard marble is.

  “May I use that? I left my lipstick at home.”

  “Sure.”

  There’s a pause as one of them applies a new coat of paint. “Yeah, she seems like a real airhead, but she’s the one who got the politician and never has to work again.”

  One of them laughs a low throaty guffaw. “You’re right. She’s the smartest pageant queen I’ve ever seen.”

  The other one snorts as their voices move toward the door. “But she’s still cheap and tacky.” They both cackle in delight and push out into the hallway.

  I wait, but the only noise is a faint sniffling.

  I turn around and see Emma still on the floor, but she’s covering her face and crying into her hands. I replay the conversation in my head, remembering all the awful things they said about her mom. I may not like her mom very much, but Emma is her daughter.

  I slip my arm around her shoulder, and pull her back from the toilet. We lean against the wall, holding each other, and I take the rag out of her hand and press it to her forehead again. She buries her head in my shoulder.

  “Christine?” She takes ragged gasps of breath. “My mom is a good person. You know that, right?”

  I blot her forehead and frown, considering this. Is she? “Of course I do, Em.”

  Emma’s beautiful blue eyes well up with tears.

  “I just don’t think our parents are right for each other.” I pull her close. “Do you?”

  Big tears roll down her perfect pink face and drop onto her dress. She tries in vain to wipe them off. “No. I want my mom and dad to be together again.”

  I smile and breathe a sigh of relief. This kid is really okay. I put my hands on her shoulders. “We’ll always be sisters, okay?”

  Emma gives me a big hug, and for a while we just hold each other on the bathroom floor.

  18

  I bend one knee and prop the sole of my shoe up on the rough brick behind me, trying to look cool leaning against this wall, which isn’t the easiest thing to do. Andrew said he’d meet me right here, and I meant to tell the Miracle Girls that I couldn’t come to lunch with them today, but . . . okay, I chickened out. Ana and Riley would probably just use it as an opportunity to pull out their claws and dig into one another, and I don’t need that drama today.

  I glance over at our usual broken wooden picnic table, but no one has arrived yet. I realize they might not be coming to lunch after all, given how rocky things got at Michael’s party on Saturday, and the thought depresses me. Zoe and I have to come up with a new plan to bring the Miracle Girls together, but lately she’s been hanging out with Marcus and the band kids a lot and I increasingly find myself alone, leaning against walls like an idiot. How do we bounce back from Ana telling Riley to dump her new boyfriend and Riley telling Ana that she’s, well, a little jealous of her?

  I hear people coming from the J wing and look up hopefully, but Andrew isn’t in their group.

  I really thought he might kiss me Friday night, and then I could finally take one step closer to being a normal teenager, but maybe it was in my head. Unfortunately, since my friends aren’t really talking to each other right now, I can’t exactly get their perspective on this. I was going to bring it up at Michael’s birthday party but then . . .

  And to make matters even worse, my mom keeps showing up in my dreams, meaning that I haven’t been sleeping well. I can feel a headache coming on. . . . A little hammer in my head, just behind my right eye, begins to pound. At least the sun isn’t out today. The fog is shrouding the trees, and the air feels wet and heavy.

  “Hey, Christine.” It’s a guy from my gym class. “Holding up that wall?”

  I shrug. “It’s performance art.”

  He looks confused and walks away, just as a flash of red catches my eye. It’s Zoe. I wave at her, but she doesn’t see me as she barrels over to our table. The lunch hordes have arrived now, and I can barely make her out through the occasional parting of the teenage sea. She takes a seat at our little picnic table all alone and dumps the contents of her lunch sack out. She glances over both shoulders, and I swear it looks like she’s about to cry. I start to walk over to her. I’ll just say hi, explain what I’m doing—well, if there is a way to explain waiting for a guy who is much too popular to even notice you and who is obviously standing you up at this very moment—and then come back to my position on the wall.

 
“Christine!” A familiar voice behind me makes me stop and turn around. Andrew jogs up to me, and my heart thumps with his every bounce. “Wait up.”

  I walk back to the wall, checking an imaginary watch on my wrist. “Listen, I have places to go, people to see. I can’t be made to wait all day.”

  Andrew runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I got held after history class for a lecture.” He sizes up the lunch crowd in the courtyard, everyone bundled up in sweatshirts and knit hats. “It seems I wasn’t giving Queen Victoria the proper respect. I got caught talking again. It’s been my problem since kindergarten.” He grabs my elbow, and my hand throbs in jealousy. Elbow-holding is for friends; hand-holding is for a girlfriend. “C’mon. Kayleen is saving seats for us.”

  I’m thankful he walks in front of me so he can’t see my face fall at the mention of little miss Dancing Queen.

  “Thanks,” Andrew says to Kayleen as he plops down on the bench next to her. There isn’t quite enough room for me at the table so I stand there, shifting my weight from one foot to another, panicking and looking like an idiot. Why don’t they scoot over?

  I toss a glance over my shoulder and see Zoe walking away, her head hung low. I kick myself for not getting to her in time to explain. She looks so small and sad, but . . . I’m kind of trapped here.

  “Oh!” Andrew pops up again. “Sorry, Christine. Everyone this is Christine.” He gestures at a table of people I recognize but don’t really know since they all orbit a planet of popularity I’m not allowed to visit. “Christine, this is everyone.” The guy on my right reluctantly slides down a little so that I can lean on the bench next to Andrew, but Kayleen doesn’t budge an inch.

  “How long did Mrs. Mortimer keep you after class?” Kayleen giggles.

  Andrew rustles her hair. “Oh sure, gloat, why don’t you? You’re the reason I got in trouble.”

  I clear my throat. I am still here, right? I haven’t disappeared entirely?

  Andrew turns to me. “Kayleen is the reason I was late to get you. She asked me a question about basketball, and Mrs. Mortimer jumped all over me.” He shakes his head and pulls a lunch out of his backpack. “Goody-two-shoes Kayleen didn’t get in trouble at all, of course.” Kayleen wrinkles her lightly freckled nose, and suddenly my yogurt doesn’t look so good.

  The sound of two plastic trays hitting the table turns my focus from Kayleen.

  It’s . . . oh no. I nearly fall backward onto the courtyard lawn when I see that it’s Ashley Anderson and Zach Abramo, everyone’s favorite A-list couple. Barf. People scoot around to make room for them to sit.

  I guess I should have realized that Andrew ran in this circle, but how am I supposed to sit across from the guy who left Riley to die and the ex-best friend who betrayed her? I need to make an excuse and get out of here. The last thing I want to do is have one of my flip-outs. Ms. Moore will make me talk about it for months.

  I tap Andrew on the shoulder. “Listen, maybe we should just hang out another time.”

  “If it isn’t Marina Vista’s favorite alterna-teen.” Ashley’s sticky sweet voice drips across the table to me. I stare at her for a moment, then look at Zach, who won’t meet my eye. At least he’s ashamed of himself. “Christine Lee. Well, I never thought I’d see the day. Don’t you have a nostril to pierce right now?” Ashley beams at me.

  I lean across the table. “I can’t believe you’d even—” I feel Andrew take my balled up fist into his hand, and it startles me.

  “I begged Christine to have lunch with me today.” Andrew’s voice is calm and stern. Ashley starts to protest but instead bites her lip, slides down into her seat, and looks away without a word. My anger drains away just as quickly as it bubbled up, and I feel a calm wash over me.

  Everyone at the table stares in my direction, making my cheeks burn, and I have to ignore a small part of me that wants to stand up and shout, “Ha! In your face!” at each and every one of them. Christine Lee is not some circus freak. She just so happens to be Andrew Cutchins’s crush.

  It’s quiet for a second, but soon everyone is talking about what they’re doing for Thanksgiving and the table returns to a normal hum. As Zach explains how his mother is insisting that he bring Ashley to his grandmother’s house, I lean in to Andrew.

  “Thank you,” I mumble. It’s hard for me to be sincere because I don’t get a lot of practice.

  He tugs gently on my hair. “It was my pleasure. She made me cry in first grade when she told everyone I was wearing Spider-Man Underoos, which I was not.” He laughs. “I’ve never really forgiven her.”

  “You got the last laugh, Mr. Basketball Star.” I raise my green tea bottle in a toast to him. “My only shot at getting the last laugh is if I grow up and become a famous painter.” I blush a little. Most people would assume I’m kidding, but I suspect Andrew knows this is as close to a career path as I’ve got.

  He shakes his head. “They’re jealous of you.” He rubs my thumb with his, and my whole body comes alive when I realize he’s still holding my hand. How does he do that? “You’ve already got the last laugh.”

  My insides feel warm and gooey, and it’s a small miracle that I don’t liquefy into a puddle right now and pool underneath the table. I dig my foot into the soft grass under the picnic table, then notice something I recognize. Shoes. I know those shoes.

  “Riley?”

  “Um, hey,” she says, sizing up my present company. I drop Andrew’s hand as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong. “I stopped by the table, but no one was there.”

  “Well, as I live and breathe.” Ashley laughs. “This day is just full of surprises. How have you been?”

  “I gotta go,” Riley mumbles as she walks away.

  “Wait,” I say to her back, but she doesn’t stop. Andrew, oblivious to what’s going on, starts joking with Zach about who will win the Stanford-Cal game, and Ashley’s high-pitched giggle pierces my eardrums.

  What am I doing at this table? That’s it. I’m going to go. I’ll catch Riley and try to explain that I didn’t know I’d be sitting with her two mortal enemies, but as I gather up my things, I feel Andrew’s hand on my knee again.

  Riley’s blonde hair fades as she walks down the breezeway, her head slightly bowed. I swallow. Maybe I can catch up with her after school. She’ll understand.

  19

  “Ohmigosh. Here she comes. Don’t forget what to say.” Zoe bolts to the door and peeks through the peephole as Riley walks up the walkway.

  “Cool.” I’m just playing along here. I figure when Riley and Ana realize that we’ve had to resort to lying to get them to come together and work out their differences, they’ll feel so guilty they won’t even be mad at us. This feud has gone far enough.

  Riley knocks on the door, and Zoe opens it so quickly that Riley looks confused. “Zo, were you waiting by the door?” Riley steps in and freezes. “Oh,” she says. “Christine.” She appears to be trying to process my presence. “I thought . . .”

  Zoe walks around her, wringing her hands. “Yeah, ha ha ha. Um, Christine said she couldn’t make it, but at the last moment, um . . .” Zoe looks like she might cry. She’s the worst liar ever.

  Neither of them has mentioned lunch on Monday. We’ve all been kind of doing our own thing all week, and it seems safer not to bring it up, so I’ve been pretending nothing is weird, even though things are definitely weird. And on Tuesday, only Zoe and I and this quiet freshman girl Tracy showed up for the Earth First meeting at lunch. Sure, Riley had told us she had a Key Club meeting and couldn’t make it, but I don’t know. Ana didn’t even bother to make an excuse. She’s avoiding all of us.

  That’s when Zoe and I cooked up this plan. We decided to invite both Riley and Ana over for a movie night and sort of, I don’t know, throw them together and see if we could broker a peace deal between them. We figured out that Zoe should tell each girl that I couldn’t make it. She invited Riley for 6:45 and Ana for 7:00 so they wouldn’t see each othe
r as they came in. We couldn’t have the two of them meeting before the big moment.

  But now, in the heat of the moment, Zoe is having a hard time keeping up the ruse, and I’m wondering how to step in. I’m no professional like Ana, but I’m still way better at lying than Zoe.

  I roll my eyes. “It’s the Bimbo’s fault. She said I had to watch Emma. Then her Yogilates class got cancelled so all of a sudden I could come over.” I make myself comfortable on Zoe’s couch. “I hope you don’t mind that I crashed your hang-out time.”

  Riley shrugs, totally oblivious to what we’re pulling. “No, I’m glad you came. So what are we watching for our movie night?”

  Zoe clears her throat and shrugs. We weren’t really prepared for this question and didn’t even try to actually pick something. I say the first thing that comes to mind.

  “Lord of the Rings.”

  Riley’s brow creases. “Really? Um, I already saw that with Michael.”

  I spring up from the couch and dive for Zoe’s entertainment center. “Ha ha ha. No, I’m just kidding. We’re not watching that.” I yank the door open. Inside I find old VCR tapes of Love Story, Dr. Zhivago, and something called Jesus Christ Superstar. What kind of movie collection is this?!

  Riley laughs awkwardly. “Whew, good. I hated it.”

  Zoe joins me on her knees and pulls out a DVD of episodes from the old Muppet Show. “Yeah, I was thinking of this one, but if you guys—”

  The doorbell rings, and I hear Zoe gulp. I nudge her because she seems to be frozen in place.

  “Oh, right.” She jumps to her feet. “I wonder who that could be?” She sounds like an actress in a bad local theater group. She takes a deep breath and opens the door. Ana is standing there.

  I wave at Ana like a maniac.