highest power.”
She nods, very seriously. “Wow. In what way?”
“You know, full of himself. Player.”
I think she’s going to whip down the stairs and drag Evie from the car by her hair. Instead, she starts to chew on her pinky fingernail. “Nice car.”
Frustrated, I look out the window myself. They’ve somehow moved closer together. I can hear Evie’s girly “a-hee-a-hee-a-hee” from here. She sounds like an asthmatic donkey. “He’s two secs away from swallowing her head.”
“You think?” She doesn’t sound very concerned.
“Aren’t you going to do anything?”
“Like drag her from the car by her hair?”
I shrug. Well, why not? “She’s only fourteen.”
She smiles at me. “Thank you, Love Police.” Then she turns back toward her Swiffer. “They’re only talking. You’ll probably be doing a lot worse tonight.”
I realize, at that moment, how completely out of it she is. No, I won’t. I have morals. I have dignity. I have a body that, when unclothed, scares even my shower curtain. My mouth hangs open. My own mother is encouraging me to get nasty with my boyfriend. Aren’t there laws against that?
She runs a dust cloth over the TV, then inspects the tiny room. “What do you think? Good enough for the honorable Mr. Wishman?”
It takes me a moment to realize that this was a special psychotic cleaning binge. She did it for my boyfriend. “Um.”
“We’d better leave for the airport soon, hmm?” she asks, checking the clock.
“Change in plans. He’s coming in late,” I fib. “After midnight. So I’ll just see him at school tomorrow, I guess.”
She closes her lips. “Oh. Bummer.”
I take one last look out the window. Rick now has his arm around Evie and is playing with her hair.
So today is a red-letter day. The day my sister gets involved with her first scum-sucking pig. The day my boyfriend, who I haven’t seen in years, comes back to town. And the day I’ll be doing trigonometry until my head falls off. Perfection.
10
I ’M SITTING AT THE LIVING ROOM coffee table, drinking Diet Coke, half watching Oprah and half trying to determine what sine is and what relevance it has in my life. I hate math; Wish is a math geek. If he were here, he’d laugh at me and say, in a very Buddha-like way, “Duh, Gwen. The answer is twelve,” without even having to think.
As I’m about to burst into tears, Evie saunters in. Again she looks like she’s going to break into song.
I push my pencil against my notebook so hard that the tip almost breaks. “Your ever-so-dreamy new boyfriend is a turd,” I say, not looking up.
She practically floats into the overstuffed chair across from me. “He is not my boyfriend,” she says, not very convincingly at all.
“I’ll give it a week before he is.”
She clicks her tongue. “Dough, I’m not an idiot. I remember what happened last week. I know what he’s like.”
“Then why were you …”
“I’ve always wanted a ride in a BMW. But that’s all he’s good for. Seriously.” And she gives me this wholesome grin, the heart-melting kind. “I’ve got your back, girl.”
Since Evie has never done anything really trashy to me before, I guess I have to believe her. However, she’s new to guys, and as I’ve learned, girls can do some pretty warped things for guys. I’ve known normal, sweet girls who’ve fought like mad lions over men. Stranger things have happened. “So you’re seriously telling me you’re never ever going to see him again?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Well, that’s impossible. He’s in study hall with me, and—”
“He’s driving you to school tomorrow, isn’t he?”
“Well, yeah,” she says, biting her lower lip. “I’d rather be caught dead than in that little bus.” She thinks for a moment and then says, “Oh. No offense.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, just take it from someone who’s older. Don’t get too close. Guys can bite. And by the time they do, you’re the one wearing
She nods, very seriously. “Wow. In what way?”
“You know, full of himself. Player.”
I think she’s going to whip down the stairs and drag Evie from the car by her hair. Instead, she starts to chew on her pinky fingernail. “Nice car.”
Frustrated, I look out the window myself. They’ve somehow moved closer together. I can hear Evie’s girly “a-hee-a-hee-a-hee” from here. She sounds like an asthmatic donkey. “He’s two secs away from swallowing her head.”
“You think?” She doesn’t sound very concerned.
“Aren’t you going to do anything?”
“Like drag her from the car by her hair?”
I shrug. Well, why not? “She’s only fourteen.”
She smiles at me. “Thank you, Love Police.” Then she turns back toward her Swiffer. “They’re only talking. You’ll probably be doing a lot worse tonight.”
I realize, at that moment, how completely out of it she is. No, I won’t. I have morals. I have dignity. I have a body that, when unclothed, scares even my shower curtain. My mouth hangs open. My own mother is encouraging me to get nasty with my boyfriend. Aren’t there laws against that?
She runs a dust cloth over the TV, then inspects the tiny room. “What do you think? Good enough for the honorable Mr. Wishman?”
It takes me a moment to realize that this was a special psychotic cleaning binge. She did it for my boyfriend. “Um.”
“We’d better leave for the airport soon, hmm?” she asks, checking the clock.
“Change in plans. He’s coming in late,” I fib. “After midnight. So I’ll just see him at school tomorrow, I guess.”
She closes her lips. “Oh. Bummer.”
I take one last look out the window. Rick now has his arm around Evie and is playing with her hair.
So today is a red-letter day. The day my sister gets involved with her first scum-sucking pig. The day my boyfriend, who I haven’t seen in years, comes back to town. And the day I’ll be doing trigonometry until my head falls off. Perfection.
10
I ’M SITTING AT THE LIVING ROOM coffee table, drinking Diet Coke, half watching Oprah and half trying to determine what sine is and what relevance it has in my life. I hate math; Wish is a math geek. If he were here, he’d laugh at me and say, in a very Buddha-like way, “Duh, Gwen. The answer is twelve,” without even having to think.
As I’m about to burst into tears, Evie saunters in. Again she looks like she’s going to break into song.
I push my pencil against my notebook so hard that the tip almost breaks. “Your ever-so-dreamy new boyfriend is a turd,” I say, not looking up.
She practically floats into the overstuffed chair across from me. “He is not my boyfriend,” she says, not very convincingly at all.
“I’ll give it a week before he is.”
She clicks her tongue. “Dough, I’m not an idiot. I remember what happened last week. I know what he’s like.”
“Then why were you …”
“I’ve always wanted a ride in a BMW. But that’s all he’s good for. Seriously.” And she gives me this wholesome grin, the heart-melting kind. “I’ve got your back, girl.”
Since Evie has never done anything really trashy to me before, I guess I have to believe her. However, she’s new to guys, and as I’ve learned, girls can do some pretty warped things for guys. I’ve known normal, sweet girls who’ve fought like mad lions over men. Stranger things have happened. “So you’re seriously telling me you’re never ever going to see him again?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Well, that’s impossible. He’s in study hall with me, and—”
“He’s driving you to school tomorrow, isn’t he?”
“Well, yeah,” she says, biting her lower lip. “I’d rather be caught dead than in that little bus.” She thinks for a moment and then says, “Oh. No offense.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, just take it from someone who’s older. Don’t get too close. Guys can bite. And by the time they do, you’re the one wearing
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