Instead of handing me a piece of plastic, he takes my phone, looks through the items in the cart, and deletes two things, muttering, “Like you’d even know… I’m not wearing that… ridiculous…” He checks out with PayPal, making every finger motion an act of silent protest.
As soon as he gives the phone back, I get up and head for the door. He says, “That’s it? I thought we would strategize or something.”
I pause to pick up my purse at the doorway. “There’s no ‘we.’ I strategize. You do what I tell you. Tomorrow starts phase two.”
“What’s phase two? What time tomorrow?”
“The fairy godmother isn’t taking any questions.” I take my sunglasses from my purse and slide them on. “Have fun with the litter box.”
I’m out the door before he can irritate me further. All I want is to get to my car without any more family interactions. Instead I have to step over Natalie, who is sprawled on her stomach across the hallway, flipping through a magazine. She looks up with a metallic grin. “See you later, Noah’s hot girlfriend.”
“Just girl. Not friend.” I don’t stop to register her reaction.
His mom stands sentry at the bottom of the stairs. As I approach, she nods curtly. “Charity.”
I tilt my chin. “Lisa.”
I figure I’m in the clear outside the front door. But no. A middle-aged man is pushing a mower around the front lawn. He’s tall and skinny like Noah—wearing a floppy fishing hat, Ray-Bans, plaid shorts, and a T-shirt that says MAKE IT SO. Now I know where Noah gets his fashion sense. When the man sees me, he shuts off the mower and approaches. I exhale in resignation.
“Well, hello there. I’m Paul, Noah’s father.” He takes off his hat, revealing a glistening bald head. He wipes a handkerchief across it and stuffs it in his pocket.
“Charity.”
Awkward pause. I seriously consider nudging him to just walk away and let me leave. But before I’ve made up my mind, he says, “Nice to meet a friend of Noah’s. Hey.” He does the finger gun at me, pointing with his thumb up. “Take it easy on my boy, okay?”
I’m not sure what he means—probably “don’t break his heart” or “wear a little more clothing”? At any rate, I fully intend to make Noah’s life as miserable as possible for the next four weeks.
I smile and return the finger-gun point. Then I hightail it to my car, making sure not to look like I’m in a hurry. As I pull away, I can’t help but think how full Noah’s house seems… how interconnected his family’s lives are. My heart aches inexplicably. I’m guessing it’s annoyance-induced heartburn. That’s probably a thing.
* * *
As I merge onto the freeway that leads to Memom’s retirement community, I tell my phone to call Sean.
Four rings, and Sean’s irritated voice fills my little car. “Ninety minutes later. Seriously, Charity?”
I should suck up, but the past thirty-six hours have been a real grind, and I’m crabby. I grunt, “I was busy.”
“Whatever. You practically ghost me for two years, then turn around and ask me for a favor, and now I feel like you’ve dumped the whole thing on me and checked out.”
“No, I haven’t. I’m totally in it to win it.” That possibly sounded sarcastic.
“Yeah? Because if you think I’m babysitting Vindhya for—”
“Of course not. I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m listening.”
Sean sighs, makes me wait six more seconds just because he can, then says, “I was going to offer to do Dynamic Duos Day with our girl.”
Damn it, I forgot about spirit week. I mentally string together six or seven of the worst words I know. How is it possible to forget something so all-encompassing, so vital to the entire JLHS social fabric? Noah has completely derailed me with his stalking and his blackmail and his tacky T-shirts and his pepper spray.…
“Hello?” Sean snaps when I don’t immediately respond. “Please don’t tell me you forgot about spirit week.”
“What?! Pfft. Of course not.”
“Because she needs to be fabulous.”
“I know! Okay? I’ve got it handled!” It comes out accidentally snippy. I’m simultaneously lying and taking out my frustration on Sean.
He matches my nasty vibe and ups it by 10 percent. “Fine. So I guess you don’t need my help.”
Instant 180 time.
“Nononono. No. Sean. I’m sorry. PLEASE do Dynamic Duos with Vindhya.” I can’t afford to fall out of Sean’s good graces. With everything else going on, I need his help to keep the Vindhya thing from going completely off the rails. I’ve never failed to make a glimpse come true before, and I’m not going to fail a Cindy now.
He clears his throat pointedly. I haven’t groveled enough.
I try harder. “I can’t do this without you. You’re the magic man. And I’m just… just a hack of a fairy godmother.” I pause to see if I’ve debased myself enough. There’s no response, so I add, “And I’m sorry for snapping at you. And for not calling you right away. And for being so distant since… a while.” He’s still silent. I moan, “What? Please?”
“Yes, the SMU audition went super well. Thanks for asking.”
I punch the air a dozen times, silently swearing some more. I totally forgot about his audition. This is why, traditionally, Cindies are cut loose after the destiny moment. Relationships are too messy. There are too many obligations. Too many opportunities to screw up.
I moan, “Oh my gosh. Sean! I want to hear all about it. Sometime. Really soon. I know you’re going to get in. They’d be fools not to accept you.” I pause and add a tentative, “About Vindhya?”
“Fine. You don’t deserve it. But I’ll do it because I’m a giver.”
“Thank you.” I exhale with relief.
Sean declines to tell me about his specific plans for Dynamic Duos Day but assures me he will handle everything. We end the call, and I drive another three miles toward Memom. I really need to verbally vomit this whole Noah situation on her. I need her to reassure me that we really are the good guys and that all of Noah’s wild accusations are just the rantings of a seriously unbalanced individual. I want her to tell me senile stories about how she faced some vaguely similar thing and kicked it to the curb.
But…
I have four spirit days to plan for, and I can’t even remember what they are. Sean is right—Vindhya’s participation in spirit week has to blow JLHS’s collective hair back. On top of that, I have to keep my involvement under Noah’s freakishly accurate radar or he’ll publicly roast me. And, if that’s not enough, I have a paper on serfdom and a crap ton of trig to slog through this weekend.
I take the next exit and get back on the freeway heading toward home. Seeing Memom will just have to wait.
JACK LONDON HIGH SCHOOL SPIRIT WEEK
GO WHITE WOLVES!
Monday: Literary Character Day
Dress to impress with the fictional best! Nominees for homecoming court will be announced at the spirit assembly.