Alice Alone by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Donald or Justin? Why did she choose a guy who was actually going with someone? And then, the question that hurt even more, why had Patrick agreed to do it?
    “Look!” Pamela explained. “They weren’t even touching. I helped arrange them.”
    “You?” I cried.
    Pamela looked chagrined. “Well, if they’re going to do it, wouldn’t you rather have one of your friends calling the shots to be sure it’s legit? We had them arranged so that their lips were two inches apart, their hands weren’t touching each other, but from across the room, in the camera, it looked like a real kiss.”
    “That’s a scream,” I wept. “I never saw anything so funny in my life.”
    “Forgive and forget,” Elizabeth said quickly, trying to be helpful.
    When Pamela went upstairs to get her sweater, Elizabeth said, “Patrick probably couldn’t help himself. All the guys are nuts about Penny. It’s just hormones, that’s all it is.”
    That was supposed to make me feel better?
    When Pamela came back down, we went out to sit in the sunshine on the front steps. We could hear the quiet scrape, scrape of Dad’s rake at the side of the house.
    “This was supposed to be a beautiful September,” I said ruefully. “I wanted it to be an autumn I’d always remember—my first year of high school. I’ll remember it, all right.”
    “Seventy times seven,” said Elizabeth.
    “What? What are we doing now, the multiplication tables?”
    “That’s how many times you’re supposed to forgive someone.”
    “Great!” I said. “Patrick gets to kiss her four hundred and ninety times more.” I guess I’m pretty good at arithmetic when it’s important.
    “He didn’t kiss her!” Pamela insisted.
    No, he hadn’t kissed her, but he’d been two inches away from her lips, I thought. He had smelled the scent of her hair, looked into her eyes… . If he hadn’t kissed her, I’ll bet he’d wanted to. I leaned back on my elbows. “She’s like a magnet,” I said. “What is it about small, petite girls, anyway? The boys go crazy over them, and it makes the rest of us feel like elephants.”
    “I don’t feel like an elephant. You’re exaggerating,” said Pamela. “And you have to admit she’s a lot of fun. You’d better take it as a joke, Al, because everyone else is.”
    “I know. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. I guess I just wanted it to be the perfect party, and this was the part that wasn’t so perfect,” I said.
    “I’ve got to go have lunch,” said Elizabeth. “I’ll see you later, guys.”
    We watched her cross the street.
    “I have to go, too,” said Pamela. “Dad’s taking me to an Orioles game.”
    I glanced over at her. “Sounds like you’re getting along better!”
    “We’re making ‘a conscious effort,’ as Dad puts it. Anyway, it’ll get me out of the house when Mom calls. She always calls on Sunday afternoons, and I don’t much feel like talking to her. Then I’ve got a ton of homework to do.”
    “Me, too,” I told her. I’d thought the homework in junior high was awful, but it was nothing like what they give you in high school.
    I sat on the porch awhile longer and let the sun warm my legs as Pamela went back down the block. Finally I heard Lester in the kitchen, making something gross in the blender, so I went back inside. He was pouring some kind of skim milk/banana/oatmeal mixture into a glass, and he seemed only half awake.
    “Shut up,” he said, before I even opened my mouth.
    “Happy birthday, dear Les-ter … ,” I warbled off-key.
    “Oh, geez, don’t ruin it,” he said.
    “I just wanted you to know that Dad and I are taking you out to dinner tonight, and as my present to you, I’m doing all the dishes this week, even though you’re on kitchen duty.”
    That perked him up a little. “My laundry, too?”
    “Don’t push it,” I said. I watched him glugdown the concoction, then stick an English muffin in the toaster. He was wearing an old pair of boxer shorts