“Nothing, it’s just — what happened to order being the enemy of creativity?” He reaches over and flicks my pencil. “You’ll turn into your mother if you don’t watch out.”
“And what would be so wrong with that?”
Garrett laughs. “Only that you’ve been complaining about her for years. Decades even. Maybe you were right all along,” he adds, teasing. “Maybe the pod people did brainwash her. And now they’ve come for you, too!”
“At least pod people get things done,” I inform him lightly, flipping my notebook closed. “Instead of being scatterbrained and late for everything all the time. Like some people!”
“Guilty as charged. I’m sorry,” Garrett apologizes. “I promise I won’t be late tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” I steal a corner of his cookie.
“I’m taking you out. It’s a surprise.” He grins at me, but I waver.
“I don’t know. . . . I was maybe going to hang with Kayla. . . .”
“But I already organized everything!” Garrett gives me the puppy-dog look again. “Come on, you’ll have the best time — I promise.”
A big surprise? I have to admit, I’m intrigued. “OK, I’m in,” I decide.
“Great! I’ll pick you up at eight.”
26
“Not the blue — it’s too sexy.” Kayla folds her arms, keeping a careful watch as I delve through my wardrobe that evening, hunting for something to wear for this big surprise.
“What?” I hold up the plain shirt, confused. “How is this sexy? More importantly, how is anything I own sexy?”
“I’m just saying, you don’t want to give him the wrong idea.” Kayla presses her lips together.
“Sure, because everything in my wardrobe has thus far filled him with longing and desire.” I hurl myself down on the bed in exasperation. “This is the thing about surprises: they don’t help you figure out a dress code!”
Kayla shifts out of my way. “You shouldn’t even care,” she points out. “Not if you’re as over him as you say you are.”
“Of course I’m over him.” I sit up, determined to get this fashion crisis resolved before Garrett shows. “Maybe the vintage dress, the red one? If it doesn’t stink of smoke from the party.”
“Sadie . . .” Kayla drags my name out. “Just listen to yourself! You can’t do this again.”
“Do what?” I bound back over to my dirty laundry hamper and pluck the dress out. I sniff it carefully, then hold it out to her. “What do you think? I’ve got some perfume somewhere, to cover the cigarettes.”
“Sadie!”
I sigh. “Stop worrying, Kayla. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she insists. “I’ve seen you, fluttering around him in the café.”
“Fluttering?”
“He’s flirting with you,” she continues, stern faced. “And you’re falling for it! After everything we’ve done . . .”
“A, he’s not flirting,” I tell her, stripping off my T-shirt and pulling the dress over my head, “and B, even if he were, I’m not falling.”
“What about yesterday?” Kayla shoots back. “You were sitting there, laughing with him for, like, half an hour.”
“So? That’s not a crime.” I check the mirror. “Ack, I’m going to need a different bra.” I cross to my dresser and rifle through the drawers for something seamless. “Look, Kayla, it’s really great that you’re looking out for me, but you don’t have to — I promise. He’s my friend, remember?
“Yes, and we all know how that worked out last time around.”
I turn. She’s looking at me with this accusatory expression, as if I’ve already committed grave crimes against girlhood. I feel myself start to get defensive. “What do you want me to say? That I’m never going to see him again?”
She shrugs. “Maybe that would be the smart thing.”
“Why?” I exclaim. “Because I enjoy his company? Because we’re hanging out?” I take a breath, trying to stay calm. “Look, I know you never liked him, but he’s my friend, and I’d appreciate it if you could give him a break.”
“You want me to just stand back and watch while you drape yourself all over him again?” Kayla asks, her voice dripping with unfamiliar sarcasm. “Sure, why not?”
“I’m not draping!” I protest. “But I like Garrett, and I want us all to be friends. Is that really too much to ask?”
“Yes, Sadie, it is.” She gets up. “Because what you wanted was to get over him. And you did! You were actually thinking for yourself, instead of wandering around like a little Garrett clone.”
“Gee, thanks.” I glare, tense now. “Says the girl who’s planning her whole life around a boy — at sixteen!”
Kayla’s expression hardens. “Not my whole life, my college town,” she spits back. “Because unlike you, I know about real relationships, not just fantasies in books and movies!”
I gasp. “That’s not fair! And this is a real relationship — a real friendship. Garrett cares about me.”
“Right.” Kayla rolls her eyes. “You finally don’t adore him anymore, so now he wants to reel you back in. Yup, that sounds like a great friendship to me.”
I back away, shocked by this sudden venom. Kayla is the perpetually upbeat one, the ultimate cheerleader, and here she is, full of bitterness and vitriol. Out of nowhere! “You know what? I don’t have to listen to this,” I tell her.
“Oh, no, not when you could be listening to him instead.” Kayla clasps her hands together and bats her eyes. “Garrett, tell me about that boring book again. What’s that? You want me to drop everything to hang out? Sure, let me trail you around like a pet poodle!”
“Screw you!” I yell.
She grabs her cardigan. “Enjoy your date. And yes, that dress smells like a freaking ashtray!”
Kayla storms away, her footsteps harsh on the stairs. Then the door slams and I see a flash of her blond hair through my front window as she hurries back across the street. I turn away and catch my breath.
Where did that come from?
Kayla is the last person I’d expect to flip into bitch mode, but the things she was saying. . . . She must be jealous, I decide, quickly stripping off the dress again and grabbing a plain white T-shirt. Jealous, that’s it. After all, Blake is away at college now, and with Garrett back, I haven’t been so free to hang out with her. But even so, that’s no excuse for saying those things!