stone.”
Mum’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I don’t feel bad for them?” she asked. “Do you really think just because I don’t cry in front of you, that I’m made out of stone? Well, let me tell you something about me, Samantha Harper. I’ve got a heart, whether you think so or not, but I’m all cried out. I’ve spent a decade beating myself up about Elliot, wondering what would have happened if it was you and not him—and I want my life back. If that’s more than you can deal with, it’s your problem, not mine.”
She turned and slammed the door so hard it almost broke off the hinges. Then I rolled over, pounded the mattress with my fists, crying and swearing. When my fury and frustration had finally eased, I turned and stared up at the ceiling for a long time, trying to process everything. It was then that I realized I wasn’t only miserable about my argument with Mum. I was also upset about what had happened at the bowling alley.
I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.
F OUR
The Party
“I ’ve decided I’m going to ask Becky out,” Frasier told me on Thursday morning . W e were standing by the lockers behind the gymnasium, killing time before our next class.
I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “Say that again?”
“I’m going to ask Becky out,” he repeated, the hall lights reflecting in his glasses.
“I don’t understand,” I stammered. “When did this come about? I thought the two of you are always bickering—”
“I’ve had a crush on Becky for years,” Frasier interrupted. “Six long years of waiting for the right time to make my move—and I think that time is now.”
I couldn’t get my head around what I was hearing. Becky and Frasier? It was too weird. “Well if that’s how you feel, great—but aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What’s that?”
“Becky’s got the hots for Lee.”
“I thought you might say that, ” Frasier said, rummaging through his book bag and pulling out a piece of paper. “That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to do my homework first—to give me an edge. I need you to read through this questionnaire and find out as many of the answers as you can before tomorrow, okay?”
He handed me the paper and I scanned it. The title read: The Acquisition of Becky Martin.
Under the title were a number of questions, such as:
1. Name three of Becky’s favorite foods.
2. Name three of Becky’s favorite movies.
3. Name three personality traits Becky requires in a boyfriend.
4. Name Becky’s food allergies (if she has any).
5. Name two of Becky’s favorite restaurants (nothing too expensive, please).
The list went on and on, and I couldn’t help shaking my head. There was no doubt that Frasier had really been working on his plan of attack. I had to give him credit for that.
“So what do you think?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for approval. “Genius, right? I figured if I could get a handle on what Becky’s looking for, she might be able to see past this.” He pointed to his face, which had flared up with a particularly bad case of acne. “Tell me the truth, Sam. P lease. What do you think?”
I bit my lip, choosing my words carefully. “I think that if it’s relationship advice you’re after, you’re talking to the wrong person. I’m totally clueless about matters of the heart—but I can give you one little tip.”
“Yes?”
“Stop treating Becky like a science project. Tear up this survey and just be yourself . Girls can tell when you’re faking, so I can tell you that it won’t go down well, if and when she finds out.”
Frasier looked crestfallen. “Is my questionnaire really that bad?”
“Trust me, it’s that bad,” I said, shutting my loc ker and turning to face him. Then I smiled and added, “But on a different note, do you really think now’s the right time? I mean, she’s been all over Lee since they first met.”
“Trust me, I’ve been thinking about
Mum’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I don’t feel bad for them?” she asked. “Do you really think just because I don’t cry in front of you, that I’m made out of stone? Well, let me tell you something about me, Samantha Harper. I’ve got a heart, whether you think so or not, but I’m all cried out. I’ve spent a decade beating myself up about Elliot, wondering what would have happened if it was you and not him—and I want my life back. If that’s more than you can deal with, it’s your problem, not mine.”
She turned and slammed the door so hard it almost broke off the hinges. Then I rolled over, pounded the mattress with my fists, crying and swearing. When my fury and frustration had finally eased, I turned and stared up at the ceiling for a long time, trying to process everything. It was then that I realized I wasn’t only miserable about my argument with Mum. I was also upset about what had happened at the bowling alley.
I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.
F OUR
The Party
“I ’ve decided I’m going to ask Becky out,” Frasier told me on Thursday morning . W e were standing by the lockers behind the gymnasium, killing time before our next class.
I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “Say that again?”
“I’m going to ask Becky out,” he repeated, the hall lights reflecting in his glasses.
“I don’t understand,” I stammered. “When did this come about? I thought the two of you are always bickering—”
“I’ve had a crush on Becky for years,” Frasier interrupted. “Six long years of waiting for the right time to make my move—and I think that time is now.”
I couldn’t get my head around what I was hearing. Becky and Frasier? It was too weird. “Well if that’s how you feel, great—but aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What’s that?”
“Becky’s got the hots for Lee.”
“I thought you might say that, ” Frasier said, rummaging through his book bag and pulling out a piece of paper. “That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to do my homework first—to give me an edge. I need you to read through this questionnaire and find out as many of the answers as you can before tomorrow, okay?”
He handed me the paper and I scanned it. The title read: The Acquisition of Becky Martin.
Under the title were a number of questions, such as:
1. Name three of Becky’s favorite foods.
2. Name three of Becky’s favorite movies.
3. Name three personality traits Becky requires in a boyfriend.
4. Name Becky’s food allergies (if she has any).
5. Name two of Becky’s favorite restaurants (nothing too expensive, please).
The list went on and on, and I couldn’t help shaking my head. There was no doubt that Frasier had really been working on his plan of attack. I had to give him credit for that.
“So what do you think?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for approval. “Genius, right? I figured if I could get a handle on what Becky’s looking for, she might be able to see past this.” He pointed to his face, which had flared up with a particularly bad case of acne. “Tell me the truth, Sam. P lease. What do you think?”
I bit my lip, choosing my words carefully. “I think that if it’s relationship advice you’re after, you’re talking to the wrong person. I’m totally clueless about matters of the heart—but I can give you one little tip.”
“Yes?”
“Stop treating Becky like a science project. Tear up this survey and just be yourself . Girls can tell when you’re faking, so I can tell you that it won’t go down well, if and when she finds out.”
Frasier looked crestfallen. “Is my questionnaire really that bad?”
“Trust me, it’s that bad,” I said, shutting my loc ker and turning to face him. Then I smiled and added, “But on a different note, do you really think now’s the right time? I mean, she’s been all over Lee since they first met.”
“Trust me, I’ve been thinking about
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