Drive Me Crazy (10 page)

Chapter Sixteen
Cassie

I
thought my life was ruined when my best friend lost her diary, spilled my secret crush to the most popular girl at school, and revealed what she really thinks of me. I thought things were bad when, after I joined up with Kendra Mack, I got ignored one minute and tested the next by Izzy Gathing, and constantly teased by Gates Morrill and all his friends. I thought having to go on this awful trip with my grandmother and her new husband—plus my stupid stepcousin—instead of hanging out with my friends was the end of everything. I was wrong on all counts. Now my life is really, truly, absolutely, horribly
ruined
, and who do I have to blame? My favorite grandmother in the
world—someone who’s supposed to be excited for me in a moment like this but who has now single-handedly made this the absolute worst thing that has ever, and I mean ever, happened to me.

I hand my notebook over to Lana, and she almost doesn’t take it, but when she does, her eyes go wide and I want to start crying again. The giant frowny face she draws on the paper doesn’t come close to capturing how miserable I feel, though I’m relieved she’s overlooking the awful things I said to her and isn’t writing
I told you so
. Ugh, it’s so terrible.

That Cory wanted my number is such a huge deal. And now, if Nono doesn’t give me back my phone and I can’t answer when he texts, he’ll probably think I changed my mind and don’t like him back. I’ll have lost my chance.

We could try to explain and get it back. Just for a sec,
Lana writes.

I take the pen from her.
She won’t budge. I don’t think she’ll even let me use it to call my parents. She said I can use hers if I really need to.

Lana’s face twists in sympathy, but also thinking. She doesn’t write anything for a minute. I stare out at the flat, nothing desert plain, not even able to listen to the saddest songs in my tune list. Instead I have to be assaulted by Nono’s awful soundtrack of nostalgia.

I’ll think of something,
Lana writes. I can only hope she’s right.

Lana tries to get me excited about the new hotel—which admittedly is pretty cool with its neon-lined reception counter and turquoise-and-mirror mosaic walls. Since I can’t take any photos of it to send Kendra Mack or anyone else, though, I might as well not even be here. It’s even dumb to bring in all my stuff, since I’ve decided I’m not dressing up for anything else on this whole trip, just to show Nono how mad I am. She thinks I express myself with my style? Well, just wait. Maybe I’ll even wear the same jeans two days in a row.

As we walk through the chrome-and-white-leather lobby, Nono points out the announcement on the flat-screen by the elevators:
Welcome, Hayden and Rustoff families, for Nigel and Flora’s wedding!

“There’s a wedding here tonight, Howie,” she says, taking his arm.

“Well, we sure had a good time at ours,” he replies.

“We sure did.” Nono’s eyes spark as she presses the up button for the elevator. “And we’re going to have fun at Nigel and Flora’s tonight!”

“How does she think we’re even getting into a wedding we’re not invited to?” I complain to Lana the minute
we’re in our room. “Why does everything have to be about her and whatever
she
wants? Could she stop and think of someone else for a second? Including, hello, a couple we’ve never met? What about their family? What about
us
? If we get kicked out, it’ll be mortifying.”

Lana hoists her duffel up on the rack in the closet and flops down on her bed across from me. She props her chin in her hands, frowning with concentration.

“Crashing a wedding is a little crazy, but I don’t think that Grandma Tess is being selfish. She’s doing this because she wants us to have a good time. All of us.”

Immediately what Nono said to me when she took my phone jumps back in my mind: that it was her desire to share this exciting, loving time in her life with not just Howie—who she still keeps referring to as
Grandpa Howe
, as though that will magically make him my grandfather—but with me and Lana too. Apparently my texting makes her feel like I’m not really here. But if I have to share Nono with her new favorite husband and her new favorite granddaughter, I don’t see why she can’t share me with my friends.

“Why can’t we just go to dinner and watch a movie or something here at the hotel?” I can’t keep the whine out of my voice. “Why does everything have to be so—”
Crowded
, I want to say, though of course I can’t to Lana. Really, the
idea of sneaking into a fancy party with Nono sounds fun. It’s just that now, of course, Howie will be there. And Lana. I’m surprised Nono’s noticed I’m on my phone at all, since she loves them so much. Even if I’m upset, she just sings and dances the day away with them, not caring what’s happening with me.

“Unpredictable,” I finish.

“Maybe Grandma Tess feels we can watch movies and things like that all the time when we’re at home,” Lana says. “Maybe she wants to give us something special.”

The horror of missing Cory’s text crawls over me again. “If she wants to give me something special, she can give me back my phone,” I grumble.

“Look.” Lana folds into a cross-legged position in the middle of her bed, even though she still has her shoes on. “I know the phone thing is a really big deal. And I know you’re really, really mad at Grandma Tess right now. But she’s made up her mind, and you’re not going to change it by sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” I insist, wondering when Lana got to be such an expert on my Nono.

Her mouth twists in disapproval. “Well, you’re not acting like someone who deserves to get your phone privileges back, either. By moping around and refusing to have fun, you’re just proving to Grandma Tess that you
don’t
want to
be here, and that will make her way less likely to give it back.”

I pound the bedspread with an angry fist. “I
don’t
want to be here! Here I’m completely missing out on everything. I want to be back home, with my friends. And with my phone so I can talk to Cory!”

Lana stays calm. “I know that. But sometimes we don’t get what we want. Sometimes . . .” She trails off, staring into space a second. She blinks, and her eyes snap back to focus on mine. “Sometimes you just have to be grown-up even when it’s not fair. Sometimes, when other people can’t take care of you in the ways you think they should,
you
have to be the one to do it.”

I raise my head off the bed to look at her straight on. There’s something going on with her, it’s clear. Maybe it’s just my nosy nature, as Tom likes to point out constantly, but I want to find out what it is.

“Lana, when you said you’d tell me anything I wanted to know, did you mean—”

The hotel room phone rings so loud, Lana yelps. We look at it, then at each other, and both burst into nervous giggling. I watch as she says, “Hello?” and “Yes,” and “Not yet,” and “Okay, see you then” into the receiver, and gives me a kooky face as she hangs up.

“Grandma Tess says to be downstairs and glamorous in half an hour.”

I groan, but I know Lana’s right. This wedding-crashing thing is happening, whether I’m still mad at Nono or not. I can fret and watch the hours drag on and on, or I can take care of myself. If Nono’s going to insist on doing what she wants, I’m at least going to do what I want within that. Which gives me an idea of how I can repay Lana for putting up with all this, too.

“We better get started then,” I say. “I’m going to need every minute we’ve got to make you up proper for this wedding.”

Chapter Seventeen
Lana

I
t felt like I was pep-talking myself more than Cassie when I told her that stuff about having to act grown-up when you don’t want to, but I’m glad it worked for her. As soon as I’m off the phone with Grandma Tess, Cassie’s plugging things in, draping outfits across the bed, checking what I’ve brought, and pulling out all her makeup—even the mantis-looking eyelash curler—preparing for my makeover.

“We’ll have to be quick,” she says, studying my face. “So it’s a good thing you don’t need too much done to you.”

“I don’t?” I ask.

Cassie makes a
duh
face that pleases me. “Look at your skin. You belong in an Ivory soap commercial. You should wear more than a ponytail all the time, though.”

I reach up to grab the ponytail in question. “It always gets so tangled.”

“I can help you manage it better.”

I feel shy, being examined by Cassie so closely, but also delighted that she wants to share any of her expertise. It’s good she doesn’t think I need much makeup, though, because I definitely couldn’t get into the kind of daily routine she has for herself. Besides, Tamika would have more than a thing or two to say about me wearing any of this silly stuff at all.

Cassie does us both up with some lavender-y metallic eye shadow, a tiny sweep of mascara, and tinted lip gloss that smells like cotton candy but tastes like overchewed gum.

“Now, your hair.” She points for me to sit on the closed toilet lid.

I don’t know what all she does—something with one of her heated instruments and some goopy-looking stuff in a tin—but when she tells me to turn around and look, I can’t believe what I see. Instead of a mess of scraggy waves, my hair looks soft and pretty. Not as shiny as Cassie’s, but still—nice.

“Here.” Cassie hands me a wide floral ribbon. “Tie this around your head like a headband.” She turns to examine herself in the mirror, sucking in her cheeks and looking left
and right. “Now for me to figure out my mess.”

Of course her hair isn’t a mess; it’s perfect. Well, mostly perfect, though it did get a little windblown while we were dancing on the roadside. She tries a few things as I watch from the toilet seat, but gets frustrated when she glances at the digital clock and sees we only have eight more minutes.

“Sometimes a bun is the best you can do,” she says, pulling it all back.

“That should be Rule Number Eight,” I laugh.

She sticks out her tongue. “Come on. We need to hurry and get dressed.”

When the elevator doors open onto the lobby, Cassie and I hold hands and walk across the glossy floor over to Grandma Tess and Grandpa Howe.

“Why, you girls look so grown-up and lovely,” Grandma Tess says, twisting her finger in a circle that says she wants us to spin around.

Even though Cassie complained about having “nothing” in her one solitary suitcase, she loaned me a flowered skirt that swoops all the way to the floor, and is wearing a beautiful sleeveless purple dress herself. We both feel pretty, and from the looks on our grandparents’ faces, we know we are.

Getting into the wedding reception isn’t nearly as hard as Cassie was afraid it might be. Grandma Tess simply puts her hand on Grandpa Howe’s arm, ushers me and Cassie ahead of her, and smiles wide at everyone as we enter the beautiful rooftop deck. When a server offers us a tray, she lifts a little toast with pink stuff on it, grins with mischief, and says, “That Nigel always did have such great taste.”

After we sample a little of the passed food, Grandpa Howe and Grandma Tess start dancing, so Cassie and I wander around the edge of the rooftop deck. When we find the macaroni and cheese bar, we heap our plates with varying types of cheesy deliciousness and head to a little corner where there aren’t any other people.

“It’s still weird, I think, going to a party where you’re not invited,” Cassie says around a mouthful of pasta. “But Nono’s right. That Nigel has some very good taste.”

I laugh in agreement.

“So, what’s our plan?” she asks.

“Stuff ourselves with macaroni, I guess, and then maybe dance?”

She shakes her head. “About getting my phone from Nono. I have to see what Cory Baxter said. I just have to. And answer him real quick. Then I can put it back.”

My happy mood starts to fizzle. Though I’d a little bit wanted Grandma Tess to take away Cassie’s phone, I didn’t
want Cassie to actually miss out on talking to Cory. But I’d thought we’d just try asking for it back, or maybe working out a trade. Sneaking it from Grandma Tess would not only be hard to pull off, it’d be wrong.

“You wouldn’t have to be the one to do it,” Cassie says, seeing my hesitation. “I only need to get into her room. It’s not like we’re stealing, anyway, because it’s
my
phone.”

I look over at Grandma Tess and Grandpa Howe, dipping and twirling together on the dance floor. I want to change the subject like my dad does and make a joke about Grandma Tess teaching the whole wedding party the Hustle, but I know Cassie needs this. Needs
me.
I haven’t ever broken the rules before, at least not on purpose. But this isn’t about me—it’s about Cassie, who needs my help.

A memory snaps into my mind: playing Civil War spy with Tamika in the park last summer. “Oh!” I say. “You could pretend to have a stomachache.”

I tell Cassie about how Tamika (the spy) faked distemper in order to be admitted into the enemy’s hospital. She did it so well that her brother Patrick (the general she was eventually going to steal the information from) almost called their mom at work, thinking Tamika was really sick. Maybe if Cassie faked a stomachache, we could get down to Grandpa Howe and Grandma Tess’s room, where our trip first aid kit is. Grandpa Howe and I packed it with
bandages, a snakebite kit, and various In Case medicines before we left, including Pepto-Bismol.

Cassie shudders. “Ugh, no. I hate throwing up.” But then her eyes go wide. “A headache would be easy, though.”

My heart shifts in my chest. I don’t want Cassie making light of bad headaches—especially not to do something like steal back her phone.

“Maybe it’s too obvious,” I say, trying to change her mind.

“No, no.” Cassie beams. “It’s so simple it’s brilliant. Let’s do it!”

I slowly scrape the remaining sauce from my plate with the edge of my fork. The wad of cheese and pasta I just wolfed down is sitting inside me like a bunch of stones.

“Let’s wait awhile,” I stall. “It’s less suspicious that way. In fact, we should probably do some dancing, maybe eat more than our share of those cupcakes over there in that tower.”

Cassie nods, serious, and stands up. She holds out her hand to take mine and pulls me up beside her.

“Let’s go, then, partner. We got plans.”