How to Take the Ex Out of Ex-Boyfriend (6 page)

 

“You did what?” Dante said after I'd told him what happened. He stood over motorcycle parts in our garage and shook his head like he hadn't understood me.

“I broke up with Jesse because he's working on Wilson's campaign instead of yours. I thought you should know.” After all, everyone else did.

More head shaking on Dante's part. “Sheesh, Giovanna, it's a high school election, not a kidney transplant.”

Okay, I hadn't expected him to give me a hug or anything, especially since his hands were all greasy. But still, I had expected a more touching response. Maybe a thank you.

“He's working against you, Dante. Friends aren't supposed to do that.”

“He said he owed Wilson a favor. I could understand that. It just means I'm going to have a great time rubbing it in when Wilson loses.”

I leaned against the door frame and folded my arms. “Why does Jesse owe Wilson a favor?”

Dante shrugged. “I don't know. They've been friends for a long time. Wilson's probably done a lot of stuff for Jesse.”

I resented my brother's calmness. My own insides hadn't stopped churning since I stormed out of the hotel ballroom. In a harsher voice than I should have used, I said, “Jesse told me he doesn't think you have a chance because you're a newcomer.”

“Yeah, well, Jesse is wrong about a lot of things. For example, he rides a Buell motorcycle. Those things break down so often they ought to come standard with tow rope.” Dante finally straightened up and looked at me. “You don't have to break up on my account. I don't care if you go out with him.”

“Well, it's too late. I already announced it. Inadvertently. To the whole audience during a song break.”

Dante shook his head again. “I told you that you were too emotional.”

I could think of many problems I had right then, and none of them had to do with my emotions. They all had to do with guys who liked motorcycles.

After I went inside—slamming the door to prove to Dante I wasn't too emotional—I walked over to the phone to call one of my friends. I wished, not for the first time, that I had a twin sister instead of a brother. A sister would have understood how I felt instead of treating me like an idiot for being loyal. Plus, if I had an identical sister, she could, you know, pretend to be me until people forgot I'd humiliated myself at a library fund-raiser.

I picked up a cordless phone, headed to my room, and tried to decide which of my friends to call. I usually talked to Charity when I had a problem. She's one of those compassionate types of people who feeds stray animals, which is why—much to her parents' chagrin—her yard has turned into a cat sanctuary. Well, really, when you think about it, it was her parents' fault. What did they expect when they named their daughter Charity?

But I didn't dial her number. Charity's father is a minister, which means she's an expert on forgiveness and turning the other cheek and all that stuff I don't do very well. I knew she'd tell me to apologize to Jesse.

I also didn't call Raine. Her name is actually Loraine, but she will hurt you if you call her that. Raine always tries to look at things logically, which, let's face it, never works. Besides, she doesn't date much because she's six feet tall (five eleven and three quarters, she claims), and she refuses to go out with anyone shorter than she is. This doesn't leave many guys to choose from. So I didn't imagine she would have the most sympathetic ear about my love life.

I lay down on my bed and dialed Daphne's number. Her cell phone number, that is, since it was a Saturday night and she was probably out on a date. I hoped not an important date, or at least not a date where she couldn't talk to me.

She picked up after two rings. I could hear music playing in the background. “Hey Giovanna.”

“Hi, Daphne. Where are you? Are you busy?”

“I'm at Allison's party,” she yelled over the music. “What's up?”

I put one hand over my eyes, as though this would keep me from crying, and told her the whole story.

After I'd finished, she said, “I can't believe Jesse would campaign for Wilson instead of for you and Dante. And then he doesn't see why you're upset about it. Men are nothing but fools. Really.” Of course this statement would have carried more weight if I hadn't heard her immediately afterward turn to someone at the party and say, “Can you be a darling and get me a Dr Pepper?” Then there was a pause in which I heard her giggling in top flirting fashion. “Thanks, Troy.”

As far as I knew, Daphne wasn't going out with anyone named Troy, but she goes through guys quicker than most people go through gum, so I didn't bother asking who he was.

“I'm really sorry for you, Gi,” she said, returning to our conversation. “Do you want to get together soon and hang out?”

“Maybe.” I didn't know what I really expected her to say to make me feel better. She could have promised me that pony I had wanted since I was seven years old, and it wouldn't have helped.

“Just a second, Giovanna.” Daphne's voice turned far away again. “Did someone bring donuts? Are there any maple kinds? I'd love you forever if you'd get me one.” A pause in which she turned up the flirt. “Pleeeease, Jared.” A giggle. “I'm yours forever.”

Jared? What had happened to Troy, and why was it that Daphne could eat whatever she wanted and never gain a single pound? Life is so unfair.

“Sorry, Gi, I'm back now. Let's go shopping Monday after school. That way Charity and Raine can come too, and we can turn it into a campaign strategy shopping trip.”

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Since Jesse had abandoned Dante, I almost expected all of my friends to vote for Wilson too. “That would be nice,” I said.

“I've gotta go now, all right?”

Sure. Fine. I appreciated how much work it must take to simultaneously flirt with two guys and send them on errands for you.

I hung up and tried to muster some confidence in Dante's chances. My friends would help me. We would figure out a way to help him win. We had to. Because that would show Jesse he'd been wrong all along.

I lay on my bed for a long time, wishing I could sleep. I told myself I wouldn't think about Jesse or Dante or any of it. But the thoughts stayed hovering at the corners of my mind. I'd remember how Jesse had caught up with me in the hotel lobby. “You can't walk home,” he said. “I'll drive you.” He hadn't said this in a nice way. It wasn't like he was sorry.

“I'll call Dante. He can pick me up.”

“I'm driving you.” Jesse took hold of my elbow and steered me outside. “It's not like I want to stick around here anymore.”

I felt myself flush and was glad he didn't look at my face. I mean, what was it with me that every time I got angry, it somehow turned into a public event?

I got into his truck, because it seemed childish to keep protesting, but I sat stiffly on the seat with my arms folded and looked out the window. Neither of us spoke until we pulled onto my street. Then he said, “One day you'll understand why I did this.”

“That's all you have to say?” I asked.

He nodded. “Until the election is over, there doesn't seem much point in saying anything else.”

And then what? I was going to forget he'd chosen to be loyal to Wilson instead of Dante and me? No wonder Jesse was friends with Wilson. Apparently they had the same arrogance level.

I tried to erase all memories of the evening. I pulled my covers tighter around me and thought of my shopping trip Monday with my friends. Daphne could pick out clothes to make anyone look like a model. She'd help me find something wonderful.

But it wouldn't be a prom dress. Jesse and I wouldn't go together now.

I took a deep breath and repeated, “It doesn't matter,” over and over again in my mind.

I pressed my eyelids together, trying to force sleep into relieving me of my thoughts. It didn't help. The tears came, then turned into sobs, and I lay awake on my bed for a long time.

Chapter
5

S
unday passed in a blur. I spent most of the time hidden in my room doing homework. My emotions swung between fierce determination to win the election, and abject misery in losing Jesse. To tell the truth, it was mostly abject misery, but I didn't see how I could have done things differently. Despite Dante's calm objections that he didn't care, I knew he did, or at least that he would.

I couldn't be loyal to my brother and have Jesse. Family was more important.

Still, it was misery.

Jesse didn't call, which shouldn't have surprised me, but I sat tensely in my room waiting to hear his voice anyway.

My friends called to check up on me and offer their sympathy. Daphne told me there were other fish in the sea. Charity told me I needed to look for the silver lining in this cloud of heartbreak. And Raine told me it was good that I found out now where Jesse's loyalties lie and not after we'd been married and he kept leaving me to go hang out with his buddies while I was stuck at home with three screaming babies and a sink full of dirty dishes. Raine probably watches too much
Dr. Phil.

Anyway, I knew they were trying to make me feel better, but I didn't. I guess that's impossible the day after a breakup. You can't just pick up and move on like it all meant nothing.

Charity and Raine both rearranged their schedules so they could meet Daphne and me at the mall on Monday. Charity had to find someone to babysit her younger brothers and sisters, and Raine got someone to cover her shift at the Bickham country golf resort. She cleans rooms at the hotel there.

This in itself was the kind of gift that makes you love your friends.

I planned on asking Dante if he wanted to come too, but when I mentioned at dinnertime that I wanted to go to the mall after school, Gabby calmly vetoed it.

“I need you and Dante to clean out the garage. I'm planning on having a garage sale next weekend.”

“But we were going to have a campaign meeting there too—you know, to help Dante.”

“At the mall?” Gabby's voice turned incredulous. “You want to hang out with your friends and your boyfriend at the mall and call it a campaign meeting?” She shook her head like she couldn't believe I'd suggested it. “I need your help here. You can schedule a mall trip some other time.”

I glanced at Dante. Apparently he hadn't told our parents that Jesse had switched loyalties, and I didn't feel strong enough or numb enough to do it now.

Dante had been talking with Dad while Gabby and I spoke, but he tuned in during Gabby's last comment. “A campaign meeting at the mall?” he asked. “Sorry, I don't want to trail your friends around and watch them shop.”

“We wouldn't be shopping the entire time,” I said.

Gabby leaned forward, her eyes glinting. “No one's going to the mall tomorrow. You're cleaning out the garage.”

I didn't even try to appeal to my dad. I'd learned from experience that he doesn't concern himself with these types of parenting details. Whenever I ask him if I can go anywhere, he generally answers with something horrible, like, “Well if it's all right with Gabby, I don't mind.”

So I let the subject drop. But the next day I told Dante I'd pay him to clean out my half of the garage after school, and I caught a ride with Daphne to the mall. I wasn't trying to be defiant, it just seemed like a practical solution, especially now when I wanted to be with people who cared about me. I needed it.

If I had told Gabby about my breakup with Jesse, she wouldn't have consoled me. She would have told me all the ways I had handled the situation wrong and then made me go clean out the garage. Besides, we'd be home before Gabby got off work, and she'd never be the wiser. But just in case, I turned off my cell phone.

When we arrived at the food court, Charity and Raine were already there waiting at a table by Panda Express. Charity looked behind me. “Is Dante coming?”

I shook my head. “He's caught in a Gabby work vortex, but we can brainstorm and then tell him what we came up with.”

Raine picked up a pencil and hovered it over a notebook. “We went over a few campaign ideas while we waited for you to get here. Exactly how much do you plan on spending for posters, buttons, that sort of thing?”

I shrugged. “I don't know.”

Raine tapped the pencil against her notebook. “You're the campaign manager, haven't you talked to Dante about it?”

“Not really,” I said.

Raine let out a disgruntled sigh to let me know, I suppose, that I was a lousy campaign manager. “Wilson will spend a lot,” she said. “He's got money and his family name to uphold. If Dante wants to compete, he'll need to put out some cash.”

“Money isn't Dante's image,” I said. “He's running against that sort of thing. His posters should show he's an everyday student.”

“The everyday student who rides a motorcycle and wears a black leather jacket,” Charity said.

Charity's parents won't let her ride on a motorcycle, because they think motorcycles are too dangerous and borderline rebellious. Dante once offered her a ride home and she had to refuse him.

This has caused Dante to give her no end of grief about the subject. When she's at our house, he refers to his bike as either “the death trap” or “the Demonmobile.” Sometimes he lets out a possessed-sounding cackle and pretends he's trying to get her. At some point during her visits, she usually ends up hitting him.

“Giovanna's right,” Daphne said. “Image is everything. If we want to win, we've got to use Dante's image to his advantage.”