I wasn’t worried about Marcie going to administration. Patch could handle himself. I was worried about last night. Patch had left abruptly, claiming he had something he needed to do, but I was having a hard time believing that something was hanging out in Marcie’s driveway. It was a lot easier to accept that he’d left because of what I’d said.
“Or the police,” Marcie added, tapping her fingertip to her lip.
“An empty school file almost sounds ill egal. How did Patch get into school? You look upset, Nora. Am I onto something?” A smile of surprised pleasure dawned on her face. “I am, aren’t I?
There’s more to the story.”
I settled cool eyes on her. “For someone who’s made it clear that her life is superior to every other student’s at this school, you sure make it a habit of pursuing every facet of our boring, worthless lives.”
Marcie’s smile vanished. “I wouldn’t have to if you all would stay out of my way.”
“Your way? This isn’t your school.”
“Don’t talk to me that way,” Marcie said with a disbelieving, almost involuntary tic of her head. “In fact, don’t talk to me at all.” I flipped my palms up. “No problem.”
“And while you’re at it, move.”
I glanced down at my stool, thinking surely she couldn’t mean— “I was here first.”
Mimicking me, Marcie flipped her palms up. “Not my problem.”
“I’m not moving.”
“I’m not sitting by you.”
“I’m happy to hear it.”
“Move,” Marcie commanded.
“No.”
The bell cut across us, and when the shril sound of it died, both Marcie and I seemed to have realized the room had grown quiet. We glanced around, and it hit me with a souring to my stomach that every other seat in the room was taken.
Mr. Loucks positioned himself in the aisle to my right, waving a sheet of paper.
“I’m holding a blank seating chart,” he said. “Each of the rectangles corresponds to a desk in the room. Write your name in the appropriate rectangle and pass it on.” He slapped the chart down in front of me. “Hope you like your partners,” he told us. “You’ve got eight weeks with them.”
At noon, when class ended, I caught a ride with Vee to Enzo’s Bistro, our favorite place to grab iced mochas or steamed milk, depending on the season. I felt the sun bake my face as we crossed the parking lot, and that’s when I saw it. A white convertible Volkswagen Cabriolet with a sale sign taped in the window: $1,000 OBO.
“You’re drooling,” Vee said, using her finger to tip my chin closed.
“You don’t happen to have a thousand dollars I can borrow?”
“I don’t have five you can borrow. My piggy bank is officially anorexic.”
I gave a sigh of longing in the direction of the Cabriolet. “I need money. I need a job.” I shut my eyes, envisioning myself behind the wheel of the Cabriolet, the top down, the wind swishing my curly hair. With the Cabriolet, I’d never have to bum a ride again. I’d be free to go where I wanted, when I pleased.
“Yeah, but getting a job means you actually have to work. I mean, are you sure you want to blow the entire summer laboring away at minimum wage? You might, I don’t know, break a sweat or something.”
I dug through my backpack for a scrap of paper and scribbled down the number listed on the sign. Maybe I could talk the owner down a couple hundred. In the meantime, I added browsing the classifieds for part-time employment to my afternoon to-do list. A job meant time away from Patch, but it also meant private transportation. Much as I loved Patch, he always seemed to be busy … doing something. Which made him unreliable when it came to rides.
Inside Enzo’s, Vee and I placed orders for iced mochas and spicy pecan salads, and plopped down with our food at a table.
Over the past several weeks, Enzo’s had undergone extensive remodeling to bring it up to speed with the twenty-first century, and Coldwater now had its very first Internet lounge. Given the fact that my home computer was six years old, I was actually excited about this.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for vacation,” Vee said, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Eight more weeks of Spanish. That’s more days than I want to think about.
What we need is a distraction. We need something that will take our minds off this endless stretch of quality education spread out before us. We need to go shopping. Portland, here we come. Macy’s is having a big sale. I need shoes, I need dresses, and I need a new fragrance.”
“You just bought new clothes. Two hundred dollars’ worth.
Your mom is going to hemorrhage when she gets her MasterCard statement.”
“Yeah, but I need a boyfriend. And to get a boyfriend, you have to look good. Doesn’t hurt to smell good too.” I bit a diced pear off my fork. “Have anybody in mind?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Just promise me it’s not Scott Parnell.”
“Scott who?”
I smiled. “See? Now I’m happy.”
“I don’t know about any Scott Parnells, but the guy I’ve got my eye on happens to be hot. Off-the-charts hot. Hotter-than-Patch hot.” She paused. “Well, maybe not that hot. Nobody’s that hot.
Seriously, the rest of my day is a wash. Portland or bust, I say.” I opened my mouth, but Vee was faster.
“Uh-oh,” she said. “I know that look. You’re going to tell me you already have plans.”
“Rewind to Scott Parnell. He used to live here when we were five.”
Vee looked like she was searching her long-term memory.
“He wet his pants a lot,” I offered helpfully.
Vee’s eyes lit up. “Scotty the Potty?”
“He’s moving back to Coldwater. My mom invited him over for dinner tonight.”
“I see where this is going,” Vee said, nodding sagely. “This is what’s called the ‘meet cute.’ This is when the lives of two potential romantic partners intersect. Remember when Desi accidentally walked into the men’s room and caught Ernesto at the urinal?”
I stopped with my fork halfway between my plate and my mouth. “What?”
“On Corazón, the Spanish soap. No? Never mind. Your mom wants to hook you and Scotty the Potty up. Pronto.”
“No, she doesn’t. She knows I’m with Patch.”
“Just because she knows, doesn’t mean she’s happy about it. Your mom is going to spend a lot of time and energy turning this equation from Nora plus Patch equals love, to Nora plus Scotty the Potty equals love. And what about this? Maybe Scotty the Potty turned into Scotty the Hottie. Have you thought about that?”
I hadn’t, and I wasn’t going to either. I had Patch, and I was perfectly happy to keep it that way.
“Can we talk about something slightly more urgent?” I asked, thinking it was time to change the subject before our current one gave Vee even more wild ideas. “Like the fact that my new chemistry partner is Marcie Mill ar?”