Crushes, Codas, and Corsages #4 Read online

  “That’s awesome,” I said as soon as it finished. “I can’t believe you actually made that. You and Ginny, I mean. How come I didn’t see any of those drawings in your sketchbook?”

  “They were digital.” Owen tapped a silver tablet next to his keyboard. “We drew them on the computer. Mom and Steve bought me this and some software as a surprise when I got back, so I can do a lot of the stuff I learned at the workshop at home now.”

  I grinned. “Wow, cool!”

  “Oh, and I sketched out some stuff for our project.” Owen flipped to the back of the sketchbook and showed me two pages side by side, each divided into a grid of a dozen squares filled with different images. “This is a storyboard,” he explained. “It’s to show the order of events in a cartoon before you start drawing it. You said something about doing a commercial for Alien Park, so here’s what I’ve got so far.”

  Leaning closer, I studied each image. I recognized a lot of the ideas we’d talked about—habitats and exhibits for aliens from different planets, plus theme-park rides like a slingshot UFO (Natasha would love that) and a roller coaster that looked like the rings of Saturn had gone all loopy and crooked. Grinning, I pointed to a picture of some sort of battle involving karate and light sabers and robots. “I’m guessing this has something to do with Cyborgs versus Ninjas?”

  Owen smiled. “Yup. Movie-themed costume laser tag.”

  “Someone needs to make that a real thing,” I said fervently, and he laughed. “All of this looks great! Are you sure it won’t be too much work?”

  “It’s fine. I mean, you’ll do most of the display-board part of the presentation, right?” he asked. “The descriptions and stuff?”

  “Definitely. Not the illustrations, though. I can’t draw.”

  Owen nodded solemnly. “Right. I remember those study cards you made for Julia’s history test last semester.” He grinned when I stuck my tongue out at him. (I was pretty glad I hadn’t opened my science notebook yet, though. I didn’t want him to see my pathetic football penguin.)

  We worked on our project for almost an hour with Dark Planet, one of Owen’s sci-fi movies, on in the background for inspiration. I sat on the floor with dozens of colored notecards spread out in neat rows in front of me, trying to find a better way to organize our presentation (something Worf didn’t help by batting at the cards whenever I moved them). Owen was scribbling on the tablet with a stylus. I kept glancing up at the screen to check his progress. This whole animation thing was so cool.

  And just like Natasha, Owen seemed so much happier now, compared to earlier this semester. Owen’s mom and stepdad had been so excited about him playing baseball, even though he couldn’t stand it. I loved that they were just as excited about his artwork, buying him that tablet and everything. Even though he’d met Ginny the Amazing Artist, I was really glad Owen had gone to that workshop.

  “Oh, I love this part.” Grabbing the remote, I turned up the TV volume a little and watched as a spider-like alien crawled through an air duct behind an unsuspecting astronaut. “This movie’s almost horror. The good kind, where it’s not gory or anything, but still really scary because you never know what’s about to happen. Like House of the Wicked.”

  Owen stayed silent for a few seconds, scrawling away on the tablet. “The second one comes out this weekend, right?” he asked at last.

  “Yup.” I glanced at him. “You, um . . . did you still want to see it with me?”

  He nodded without looking up, but his face turned a little pink. “Yes. Maybe Saturday?”

  “Okay.” My stomach flipped like I was on the slingshot UFO. Not a date, I told myself firmly, picking up a notecard and pretending to read. We’re watching a movie right now, and this isn’t a date. Granted, it was at Owen’s house after school, and we were doing homework at the same time. Going to a theater together on the weekend was a whole different thing.

  Still, that didn’t make it a date. At least, I was pretty sure.

  “Of course it’s a date!”

  Rolling her eyes, Gabby popped a handful of M&M’s into her mouth before offering me the bag. I took a few, although my stomach was too knotted up for chocolate this early in the morning.

  “We hang out all the time, though,” I argued. “This isn’t any different. It’s not a date.”

  “If you’re so sure, then why’d you ask me?”

  I opened my mouth, but couldn’t think of a response.

  Gabby snickered. “Besides, I bet Owen thinks it’s a date.”

  “No way.” I lowered my voice when Mr. Franks walked into the classroom. “Come on, Gabby—we’re going to the dance together and he knows that’s not a date.”

  “Yet,” Gabby said innocently, shoving the M&M’s bag into her pencil case. I rolled my eyes.

  Still, I was distracted all through English class. The thing that made this so confusing was I didn’t even know if I wanted the movie to be a date or not. I loved hanging out with Owen because we had fun, and it was . . . easy. Dating was different, though. Not that I knew from personal experience. But I’d heard plenty about Julia’s and Natasha’s first dates, how nervous they’d been. I didn’t want to be nervous around Owen. What if it was a date, and it totally messed up our friendship?

  On the other hand, what if it didn’t?

  I wasn’t sure which option was scarier.

  I spent most of the next few class periods trying to figure out what to wear that would work for both a date and not a date. By the time I got to the band hall, I’d pretty much gone through every possible scenario for tomorrow night in my head. Almost.

  “So what time’s the movie start?” Trevor asked. I glanced up from my cubby in surprise.

  “What?”

  “Owen invited me,” he explained, opening his trombone case. Owen didn’t look up from his music folder, but I saw him blink several times.

  “I’m pretty sure you invited yourself,” he said. Trevor shrugged.

  “Same difference. So what time?”

  “Um . . . it starts at seven,” I told him, trying not to sound too disappointed. Or relieved. Because I felt both, which was a pretty weird mix. “My mom’s driving us.”

  “Cool.” Trevor closed his case. “I can just walk to Owen’s house before.”

  Stellar, I thought. But before I could say anything else, Gabby appeared at my side.

  “And I’ll come to your house first,” she announced, nudging my arm. “That way your mom won’t have to make an extra trip.”

  I stared at her, aware of Owen doing the same thing. And probably blinking his eyelids off.

  “Oh great, you’re going?” Trevor made a face. Gabby smiled sweetly at him.

  “I just decided to invite myself along.” Turning, she leaned closer to me and added, “Because that’s not rude at all.”

  I pretended to look for something in my case. “What are you doing?” I whispered, trying not to giggle.

  “I’m helping you out!” Gabby said in a low voice, her eyes wide. “Trevor was about to screw everything up, but now it’s a double date. And you owe me big-time,” she added. “He’s so annoying.”

  “You know it’s a horror movie, right?” Trevor told Gabby as he walked by. “The first one was pretty freaky. Ten bucks says you run out of the theater screaming before it’s halfway over.”

  Gabby followed him out of the cubby room. “If you really wanna win that bet, just take your shoes off,” she replied cheerfully, and Trevor swatted her arm with his folder.

  Laughing, I glanced at Owen. “Well, tomorrow should be . . . interesting.”

  He smiled. “Yeah.”

  As we walked into the band hall together, I wondered if Owen was relieved or disappointed. Maybe he was a little bit of both, like me.

  There was one good thing about knowing for sure that I wasn’t going on a date with Owen—it didn’t ta
ke too long to pick an outfit. I only went through three or four before choosing jeans and a tank top, plus my hoodie in case the theater AC was cranked up.

  After hanging the clothes over the back of my desk chair, I went downstairs to make a sandwich. Mom stood near the phone, digging through her purse, while Dad was fitting the lid on a container of lemon squares. As I opened the pantry to grab a loaf of bread, I noticed the brochure for Lake Lindon on the counter.

  “Have you looked at this band-camp stuff yet?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. Ever since I’d brought the brochure home, I’d been trying to strike that delicate balance necessary when you ask your parents for something. I didn’t want to seem too casual about Lake Lindon because then they might think it wouldn’t be that big a deal to me if I didn’t get to go. But I didn’t want to beg and annoy them so much they just said “no” right away—especially considering my parents pretty much never reversed their decisions once they’d made them.

  “Not yet, sweetie,” said Dad. “We’ll take a look tonight, okay?”

  “’Kay.” Shutting the refrigerator, I set a package of cold cuts on the counter and eyed them suspiciously. “Hang on—why are you both all dressed up?”

  Mom didn’t look up. “Housewarming party for one of my coworkers.”

  “I thought that was later tonight!” I cried. “You said you’d drive me to the movies, Gabby’s even coming over early, what am I supposed to—”

  “Holly, relax,” Dad interrupted. “Chad’s not working tonight. We’ve already talked to him about taking you.”

  My brother was driving me to the movies? With Owen? Oh no. No no no no no.

  My parents must have taken my silence as acceptance, because when they finally looked up to see me gaping at them in horror, they looked surprised.

  “Chad?” I yelled. “He can’t—you—”

  Mom sighed. “It’ll be fine, honey. I made him promise to be on his best behavior.”

  I snorted so hard, it physically hurt. “Yeah, I believe that.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Mom repeated. “We’ll see you tonight, okay?”

  She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then they were out the door. I stared through the kitchen window as Mom’s SUV backed out of the driveway, making an extra-wide turn to avoid hitting Chad’s car parked along the curb.

  Oh my God, Chad’s car.

  The Trash Mobile. I’d be taking my friends to the movies in the Trash Mobile.

  I stood in a sort of mortified shock for a minute. Then I forced myself to focus. Okay, so I was stuck with Chad as a chauffeur. But at least I could do something about the Dumpster-like state of the limo.

  Twenty minutes later, I was dragging the garden hose down the driveway when Gabby’s mom drove up. I waved to her as Gabby hopped out.

  “I hope you’re getting paid for this,” Gabby said, staring at all the cleaning supplies I’d lined up on the sidewalk.

  I shook my head. “Nope, it’s voluntary. Turns out my brother’s taking us, and he’s not allowed to drive my dad’s car. And his is seriously disgusting. I can’t make you guys ride in it like this.”

  Gabby laughed. “Gotcha. Can I help?”

  “Thanks, but you’ll get all dirty,” I replied. She waved dismissively.

  “I can just borrow something of yours, right?”

  “Oh okay!” I pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “Check the second drawer of my dresser, there are some old T-shirts in there.”

  By the time Gabby came back outside, I’d stuffed one trash bag and was working on the second. Peering through the driver’s window, Gabby whistled.

  “Whoa, you weren’t joking!”

  I looked up from the backseat, where I was trying to peel off a takeout menu stuck to the seat with what looked like hardened soy sauce. “Yeah, it’s rough. You really don’t have to help! Just keep me company.”

  But Gabby was already crawling into the front passenger seat, garbage bag in hand. “Hey, can I turn on the radio?”

  “Sure! Not too loud, though,” I added. “I think Chad’s asleep, and he doesn’t know I took his keys.”

  Gabby snickered, flipping through radio stations. “Would he actually be mad at you for cleaning his car?”

  “Probably. He’s weird about his car, I guess because he paid for half.” I finally scraped up the last bit of the sticky menu. “Although if he loves it so much, I don’t get why he treats it like a landfill.”

  Having Gabby there made cleaning the Trash Mobile a lot more fun. We joked around and sang along when good songs came on the radio, and before I knew it, the inside was vacuumed, the dashboard was shiny, and the windows were smudge-free.

  I glanced at the clock. “Think we can wash the outside in ten minutes? That’ll give us half an hour to get ready.”

  “Sure!”

  Just as I swung my legs outside, I heard a muffled sound, almost like a guitar strum. Sticking my hand between the driver’s seat and the console, I pulled out Chad’s cell phone.

  “Wow, I can’t believe he hasn’t missed this yet.” I glanced at the screen, where a text message had appeared.

  Hey, babe! I’m working @ 7 tonite & tomorrow if u want to stop by. free sundae! :)

  “What the . . .” I stared at the message, and Gabby peered over my shoulder.

  “‘Hey, babe!’” she read in an overly perky voice. “Looks like your brother’s got a girlfriend.”

  Oh, ew. Just . . . ew.

  “That. Is. Disgusting,” I announced. “That’s like . . . Trash Mobile–level disgusting. Who would date my brother?”

  Gabby laughed. “That girl, apparently.”

  Wrinkling my nose, I read the name at the top of the screen. “Amy Wells. Wow, he hasn’t even mentioned her to my parents! I wonder how long—”

  “Amy Wells?” Gabby interrupted, grabbing the phone. “Holly, that’s Trevor’s sister!”

  “What?” I stared at her. “Trevor has a sister? How do you know?”

  “My aunt took me to the mall a few weeks ago, and we went to Maggie Moo’s for ice cream,” Gabby said. “Trevor came in with his dad, and there was only one chocolate-dipped cone left, so me and Trevor were arguing over who should get it. The girl behind the counter ended up giving it to me, Trevor told her off, and I found out she’s his sister.” Gabby grinned, pointing at the text message. “It says free sundae, see? That’s so her. She’s awesome, by the way,” she added. “She put extra M&M’s on my cone and told Trevor he needed to learn how to be chivalrous.”

  This was too much for my brain to process. “Chivalrous?” I sputtered. “If she thinks guys should be chivalrous, what in the world is she doing dating Chad? He’s so—I can’t even—”

  Laughing, Gabby pulled me out of the car. “You do realize he probably acts a lot different around her than you, right?”

  “Yeah, but still . . .” Making a face, I slammed the door closed and picked up the hose. “Ew, ew, ew.”

  Gabby added soap to the buckets of water while I hosed down the car. “You know,” she mused, “you can use this to your advantage.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well . . .” Gabby tossed me a soapy rag, and we started scrubbing. “You said you’re worried Chad’s gonna give you and Owen a hard time, right?”

  “Oh, he definitely will.” My brother had a habit of calling any boy I knew my “boyfriend.” He also had a habit of scaring them to death by pretending to be all intimidating or whatever.

  Gabby raised an eyebrow. “And he’s about to be in a car with his girlfriend’s little brother, right?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “So, if he starts to tease you, you know . . .” Gabby winked. “Maybe you drop a little fact about him that he wouldn’t want Trevor telling Amy. That’ll probably keep him quiet.”

  I gazed at her. “That .
. . is brilliant.”

  Gabby sighed. “I am, aren’t I?”

  “You really are.” Grinning, I picked up the hose. “So Amy seems cool, huh?”

  “Very,” Gabby said, nodding emphatically. “I went back last weekend, and she made me the best chocolate-and-marshmallow milkshake. Trevor wasn’t there, though.”

  I tried to keep a straight face. “Why, were you hoping he’d be?”

  Gabby gave me such a withering look, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Holly, do not even go there.”

  “Just seems like you both really like picking on each other,” I said, still giggling. Gabby rolled her eyes.

  “What is this, second grade?” She stepped back as I started rinsing the suds off the car. “I don’t flirt with people I like by picking on them. I’m more mature than that.”

  I snorted. “If you say so.”

  A second later, a dirty, soapy rag smacked me in the face. I pulled it off, sputtering, and chased Gabby around the side of the house with the hose.

  “I can’t believe you did this.”

  The way Chad said it was not a compliment. Buckling his seatbelt, he stared around with a furrowed brow, like he didn’t remember how to drive now that the inside of his car wasn’t covered in several layers of filth.

  “That’s the steering wheel,” I said, pointing. “Just put the key in there, and—”

  “Knock it off, Holly,” Chad muttered, while Gabby snickered in the backseat. “I’m looking for my phone. I thought I left it in here.”

  “You did!” I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and handed it to him with a bright smile. “You got a text message, by the way. Looked kind of important.”

  “Babe,” Gabby added, and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Chad eyed us suspiciously, then checked his texts. After a second, he tossed the phone into a cup holder. I noticed his face was just a little bit red as we pulled away from the curb.