Devon Delaney Should Totally Know Better (19 page)

“That’s a nice dress,” Bailey says, flipping her long dark hair back over her shoulder. “What do you think, Kim?”

“It’s nice,” Kim says. “I like the bottom.”

“Thanks,” I say. Wow. Are Kim and Bailey actually being nice to me? Maybe now that Luke and I are broken up, they feel sorry for me, and aren’t threatened by me anymore. I can’t decide if this should make me happy, sad, or mad.

“I guess since now you and Luke are broken up, you’re probably under even more pressure to look amazing,” Bailey says. She reaches out and touches my arm. “How are you doing with all that?”

“I’m okay,” I say, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Junior high relationships aren’t really meant to last.” I narrow my eyes. “You guys should know that.” I’m referring, of course, to Bailey’s own relationship with Luke, and to Kim’s currently off-again relationship with Matt Connors. But just in case she doesn’t get it, I say, “You know, Kim, like you and Matt breaking up again. You bounced back from that, didn’t you?”

Kim narrows her eyes at me. “Of course I did,” she says. “Matt Connors is a total loser.” She opens her mouth to say something else, but Bailey cuts her off.

“Well, I’m sure it’s for the best.” She gives me a big smile, showing off her perfect white teeth. “Luke said it had something to do with your ex-boyfriend Greg, so it’s great that you two are back together.”

“Yeah,” I say, not bothering to correct her. “Really
great.” And before she can say anything else, I turn on my heel and head out of the dressing rooms.

The rest of the week passes pretty uneventfully, except for two major things:

1. My dad works late two times. Both times, he comes rushing in after dinner, gives my mom a kiss on the cheek, and is totally oblivious to the death glare I’m giving him.

2. I bump into Luke in the hallway, and he says, “Sorry,” and puts his hands on my shoulders. But that’s it. Nothing else. No “I want to break up with you,” or “We need to talk,” or “Are you confused about what’s going on with us, too?” I’m starting to think that if he said, “I hate you and never want to speak to you again, you’re a lying little jerk,” I’d be a little bit relieved, since at least then I’d KNOW.

By the time Saturday night rolls around, I’m not really feeling like going to the dance. My new-dress high is pretty much nonexistent. Not to mention that the day after the dance, I’m supposed to be going on a mock trial field trip. Which means that on Sunday, I will have to get up early, get onto a bus, and drive to Westland High School, which is two towns away, to watch their team compete in a mock trial competition.

Even though I feel miserable, I decide that I have to go to the dance, and that if I have to go to the dance, I at least have to look the part. So I load up the bathtub with vanilla and lavender bath salts, light some candles all around the tub, and soak for a long time. I wash my hair with a plumeria shampoo, and give myself a hot conditioning treatment.

“Hello,” Katie says, coming in while I’m standing in front of the bathroom mirror after my bath. I’m wrapped up in the fluffy pink robe that my grandma got me last year for my birthday, waiting for the conditioning treatment that’s on my hair to finish hot conditioning me up.

“You should knock,” I tell her.

“You shouldn’t keep the door unlocked if you don’t want people coming innnnn,” she sings. This makes no sense, but I don’t bother correcting her.

“Want to see my curling?” she asks.

The deep conditioning treatment is about to drip down over my forehead and into my eye, so I grab a tissue and wipe off the excess.

“You want to curl my hair?” I ask. “I don’t think so. But maybe I’ll let you paint my nails.” Katie’s surprisingly good with nail polish. It might be all those
paint by numbers that she does.

“No, Devon,” Katie says. “My curling. For the Olympics!” She holds up a teapot and a broom. “Haven’t you ever heard of curling? It is an Olympic sport played on the ice.”

I’ve actually never heard of it, but when it comes to the Olympics, in Katie I trust. “That’s great,” I say. “But you better put mom’s antique teapot back before she flips out.”

“Okay,” Katie says agreeably. She bends down and carefully sets the teapot down on the bathroom floor. “I’d like to do your nails, please.” So I let Katie paint my nails. Like I said, she’s surprisingly good at nail painting, even if it takes her forever. She paints them a dark magenta to match the underside of my dress, and I flip through magazines with my free hand. It’s almost like being at the salon.

When my nails are done, I rinse out my conditioning treatment, then blow-dry my hair. I consider putting it up in hot rollers so that it will fall around my shoulders in waves, but then I realize that’s what Barelli does, and I don’t want to copy her. Hers must be natural, though. No way she has time to do that every single day. In the end, I settle on putting my hair up into a twisty ponytail, with some strands falling softly around
my face. I use a light purple eye shadow, a pink lip gloss, and put some body glitter on my shoulders.

Then I head downstairs to where my mom is waiting with the camera.

“Are you ready, honey?” she asks. “Where’s Luke?”

“Mom, I told you,” I say. “He’s just going to meet me at Lexi’s, his mom didn’t have time to pick him up from his dad’s house and bring him here first.” This is sort of a lie. I mean, Luke is going to be at Lexi’s. (This info came from Lexi, who heard it from Jared, who heard it from Luke.) But he’s not going to be meeting me. In fact, he probably won’t even be talking to me.

“Oh,” my mom says. “Right. Well, let me take a few pictures of you, then.”

I pose for her in front of the fireplace. Katie comes over in her curling outfit, which is actually a little bit okay, since it’s only a pair of overalls and a heavy winter jacket. Definitely not as bizarre as wearing a pink tutu or a swimming cap in the winter.

Then Katie, my mom, and I all pile into the car so that she can take me over to Lexi’s house.

“Now, Katie and I are going to be at a movie and out to dinner,” she says. “But your dad will be home, so if you need anything, just call the house.”

“Mom, it’s going to be fine,” I say as we pull into
Lexi’s driveway. Through the front window of her house, I can see the shadows of people moving around in there. “Well!” I say brightly. “Thanks for the ride. Lexi’s mom is going to bring everyone home, and I’ll definitely make sure I’m home before eleven.” I unbuckle my seat belt and open my door.

“Oh,” my mom says. “I think I should walk you in, you know, so that I can talk to Lexi’s mom.”

“What?” I gasp in horror. “Why? I thought you already talked to her?”

“Plus I want to get a picture of you and Luke.” My mom unbuckles her seat belt, and before I can stop her, she’s marching up Lexi’s steps and ringing the doorbell, Katie hot on her heels.

I follow them slowly, wondering how this is going to turn out, and knowing that no matter what, it’s not going to be good.

Jared opens Lexi’s front door. “Oh, hey, Devi,” Jared says. My mom frowns at the use of the word “Devi.”

“Hey,” I say weakly. Suddenly I feel very hot in my dress, like I might faint. I fan myself with my hand, hoping that might help a little. It totally doesn’t.

“Hello,” my mom says. “I’m Devon’s mom.”

“Hi, Mrs. Delaney,” Jared says. He gives my mom
a big grin. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” my mom says. I can tell she’s impressed by his manners.

He opens the door to let us in, and thankfully, by some miracle, Lexi’s mom is in the living room with everyone. I’ve spent a lot of time at Lexi’s (last summer when I stayed at my grandma’s I practically lived there), and it’s very rare for Lexi’s mom to be visually present when I’m over there. There’s a table set up in the middle of the room with a few snacks on it, and music coming from the big screen TV on the wall, which is showing videos.

“Devi!” Lexi calls, rushing over toward me and grabbing me in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Over her shoulder, I can see Luke standing in the corner, talking to Dylan and drinking something out of a paper cup. He’s wearing black pants and a gray button-up shirt, and shiny black shoes. He looks amazing. Our eyes meet for a second, but then Luke looks away and goes back to his conversation.

Mel comes up to me, looking gorgeous. She’s wearing the long green skirt Lexi gave her, with a white gauzy shirt over a lavender camisole. “Hey,” she says. “I need to talk to you.” She looks nervous. She spots my mom, and then lowers her voice, “Later. Alone.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, but Mel shakes her head. Oh, geez. What now? But I don’t have time to think too much about whatever Mel has to talk to me about, because I have bigger problems, i.e., getting rid of my mom before she completely and totally embarrasses me.

“Hello, Marcia,” Lexi’s mom says, walking over to us.

“Oh, hello,” my mom says. “Hello!” Katie pipes up from somewhere around my mom’s knees.

“Hi.” Lexi’s mom looks at Katie warily. I don’t think Mrs. Cortland knows what to make of Katie. One time a few weeks ago, when I got stuck babysitting for Katie, Mrs. Cortland drove us both to the mall with Lexi, and Katie was wearing a bathing suit covered in glitter, which she called her ice skating warm-up. I think Mrs. Cortland found the whole thing very strange.

“I just wanted to come in and make sure again that you know Devon needs to be home by eleven,” my mom says. “Of course, if there’s a problem getting her home by that time, either her father or I would be glad to pick her up.”

“No, no, that will be fine,” Mrs. Cortland says. How completely embarrassing! I mean, it’s fine, eleven
o’clock, whatever. But to come in and have to say this in front of all my friends? Luckily Jared is over by the TV, mumbling something about hooking up the Wii, and Luke and Dylan are over in the corner, still ensconced in conversation. So the only people I really need to worry about are Lexi and Mel, and they already know my mom is crazy.

“Okay, Mom!” I say brightly. I give her a hug and a pat on the back. “So I’ll see you at eleven then!” I put my hand on the small of her back and very gently guide her toward the door.

“Wait a second,” my mom protests. “I want to get a picture of you and Luke.”

“Oh, no,” I say. “That won’t be necessary, I—”

“Devon, don’t be embarrassed,” my mom says. “Yoohoo, Luke!” she calls over to where Luke is standing with Dylan. “Would you mind coming over here so that I can get a picture of you and Devon?” Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, my mom did not just say that. My mom did not just attempt to get a picture of me and the boy who broke up with me.

“Mom,” I say. “Really, I—”

“Okay,” Luke says. He puts his drink down on a table and comes over to where I’m standing with my mom. Ohmigod. What? Why? Why is he coming over?

“Lean in close and smile!” my mom instructs. Luke leans in close to me, and I can smell the cologne he’s wearing. His slides his arm around my shoulder, pulling me ever closer, and my stomach does a flip.

“So I guess you didn’t tell your mom we broke up?” Luke whispers into my ear.

“No,” I say. “I didn’t tell her.” And then I start to get a little mad. I mean, why would I tell my mom we broke up when Luke didn’t even tell
me
? “And besides, I didn’t know if we really broke up, since you refuse to talk to me.”

“I didn’t refuse to talk to you,” Luke says. “I was just taking some time to sort out my thoughts.”

“Yeah, well, you could have at least told me that.”

“Smile!” my mom says. She puts the camera down and looks at us in frustration. “Guys, you’re not smiling!”

“Say cheese!” Katie yells, bouncing around on one foot. “Say cheese and your face will go into a smile!”

I force myself to smile, and Luke does the same. After what seems like a bazillion shots, my mom puts the camera away, kisses me goodbye, and heads out the door, Katie in tow.

“Anyway,” I say to Luke once they’re gone, trying to sound haughty, “Thanks for taking a picture with me.” I turn on my heel and start making my way over
to where Mel and Lexi are standing in the corner, but he stops me.

“Devon,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me back toward him. “I’m sorry that I blew you off.” He sighs and drops his eyes to the floor. “It was stupid of me to do that, but I just didn’t know what to say. Seeing you there with Greg, it just . . .” He sighs. “I dunno.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “But there’s nothing going on between me and Ryan.”

“Who’s Ryan?” Luke frowns. Shoot.

“I mean Greg,” I correct.

“But you were at the mall with him,” Luke says. “I saw you there. You lied to me.”

“Yeah, but we just ran into him,” I say. “We were just at the mall, you know, shopping, and we ran into him.”

Luke frowns. “Then why didn’t you just say that as soon as I saw you?” he says. “And besides, you told me you were going to your grandmother’s.”

“I
was
there,” I say. “But then I went to the mall. I needed to get a dress for the dance, and I wanted to surprise you.”

“You were at your grandmother’s? And you expect me to believe that you didn’t run into Greg there and
ask him to go to the mall with you?”

What is he—Oh. Right. Greg supposedly lives near my grandmother’s house.

“I didn’t invite him!” I say. “He just—”

“He just happened to be at a mall really far away from where he lives?”

“No,” I say. My head is spinning, and I’m trying to keep track of all the lies. “It wasn’t . . . I don’t . . .” Ahhh!

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s what I thought.” He turns and starts to walk away.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him back toward me. “We need to talk.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I rush on before he can shut me down, “Maybe after the dance we could go back to my house or something?”

Luke sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. I hold my breath and hope he’ll say yes.

I need to tell Luke the truth. Even though it’s going to be hard, I need to tell him and see if he’ll forgive me. There’s no other way.

“Okay,” he says finally. “After the dance.” I just hope it’s not too late.