M or F? (27 page)

“I guess . . .” I said slowly, “I guess that just because something seems ideal doesn't mean that it can work for everyone.”

“Your dad isn't Mister Romance,” Mom admitted, smiling. “But his style has worked for twenty-three years. I don't know why I thought I needed to change things now. The truth is . . . I just like being with him. We're perfectly happy sitting on the couch together. We don't need chocolate-covered strawberries or fancy lingerie.”

I laughed, and suddenly, an image of Jeffrey popped into my mind. Jeffrey—reading that poem in assembly, the first time I really noticed him. He'd seemed so perfect then . . . and so perfect for me. But he wasn't—that was just an illusion. I looked into my mom's sweet blue eyes. I guess I wasn't the only person who'd fallen into that “ideal love” trap. It was oddly comforting, in a way, to know that I wasn't alone. And to know that my mom wasn't as perfect as I'd always thought.

“Where are you off to?” Mom sipped her coffee.

“
King Kong.
Marcus is meeting me at Lincoln Park,” I said, taking a bite of cookie. Wow. It really
was
good. I silently forgave Marcus for always oohing and aahing over Mom's treats.

Speaking of . . .

I looked down at my watch. “I really have to jet.” I brushed a few cookie crumbs off my lap as I stood to go.

“You look great,” Mom said, eyeing my outfit. “I really like that belt buckle.”

“Yeah?” I looked down at the fat turquoise-and-silver buckle. “I stole it from Laura.” I guess she'd bought it on our family's trip to New Mexico three years ago. I'd been in her room earlier looking to borrow a hair clip, and when I saw it in her drawer, I knew I had to have it. It reminded me of line dancing with Sundance. Besides, Laura never wore it, anyway.

Mom's eyes twinkled mischievously. “You look good. Not as good as in the nightie, but—”

“Mom!” I screeched. With a grin, I flipped my long hair behind my shoulders. Leaning over quickly, I gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Have fun, sweetie,” Mom said.

“And you have fun staying in with Dad,” I told her.

“Don't worry.” A grin twitched at the corners of Mom's mouth. “I will.”

 

 

Late, late, late. Marcus is always late, I thought as I paced back and forth in front of the Lincoln Park Cinema. Arty-looking people streamed past me, lining up for the three-thirty showing of
King Kong
. Why hadn't I volunteered to pick him up in Chirpy? But parking at the theater is always a nightmare and generally I end up in a lot, which costs somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty bucks for three hours—so Marcus and I had agreed to take the El instead and meet there. Brilliant. Now I had two tickets in my pocket, but no friend to see the movie with.

I checked my watch: 3:17. One minute later than the last time I checked. Come on, Marcus! I thought. I didn't want to miss the trailers. Normally, I wouldn't have cared, but at Lincoln Park, they play these hilarious old movie trailers whenever they show a classic film. It's the best part of the show.

“Frannie!” shouted a voice behind me.

“Nice of you to show up!” I turned, but it took a full second for my brain to process that I was looking at Glenn, not Marcus.

He winced. “Sorry, I couldn't find parking—”

“Oh!” I said, although that really didn't make sense as a reply to what he'd just said. “I mean, I know—it's impossible to park around here. Uh . . . hi.”

Glenn smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You just said that.”

“Right.” I guess my brain wasn't really functioning. I was just confused—Glenn was acting like he was supposed to be here. And Marcus was still nowhere in sight. I felt like I was in some parallel universe, in which you make plans with one person and someone else shows up. “Um, don't take this the wrong way . . .” I started.

“But—what am I doing here?” Glenn asked, finishing my thought. His full lips curved into a smile. “Marcus invited me. Sorry—I thought he told you.”

I rolled my eyes. “There's a lot he's been leaving out lately.” Okay, so Marcus invited Glenn along on our hang. That was . . . weird. I guess. Although Marcus and Glenn had seemed to get along okay when the four of us—including Jeffrey—hung out earlier that week, after the GSA meeting. Maybe that was what Marcus was thinking. “Is Jeffrey coming too?”

“Not that I know of.”

Curiouser and curiouser.

“So—where's Marcus?” Glenn asked, looking around. “It's three-twenty.”

“Right. Let's find him. And yell at him.” I pulled out my cellie, found his number, and pressed the send button.

“You rang?” Marcus sounded like he'd been expecting my call.

“Where are you?” I demanded.

“Actually, I've got a flat tire,” Marcus said nonchalantly. “I don't think I'll be able to make it.”

“Oh, a
flat
,” I repeated, looking over at Glenn, who lifted his eyebrows in response. Very interesting, Marcus Beauregard, I thought. Considering that you don't have a car.

“Does he need us to pick him up?” Glenn whispered.

“Is Glenn there?” Marcus asked knowingly.

“Yes, he's here,” I said into the receiver. “He wants to know if we should come and pick you up. He seems
very concerned
that you might be stuck on the highway, struggling with the spare tire.” I made my voice as sarcastic as I could without giving away too much to Glenn.

“Why don't you two go ahead and see the movie?” Marcus suggested brightly. “Maybe you could catch some dinner afterward, too.” Then he actually giggled.

I shook my head. So that was his little game. Marcus was trying to set me up with Glenn!

I looked over at Jeffrey's best friend, who was standing there in a crisp khaki button-down shirt and fresh jeans. He smiled uncertainly, flashing a set of white teeth. Dark hair, soulful dark eyes . . . Yeah, Glenn was cute. Shorter than Jeffrey but still tall and muscular. And we got along great. I could see where Marcus was getting this. But I just didn't have that vibe with Glenn. He was a friend—that was all. “Nice try,” I said into the phone. “Why don't you just worry about fixing that
flat
?”

“Yeah . . .” Marcus's voice was playful.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marcus repeated. “Well, I think it's time for a total overhaul, actually. And by the way, I'm meeting Jeffrey by Buckingham Fountain in ten minutes.”

My heart leaped. “You
are
?” I screeched.

Glenn looked worried. “Is everything okay?” he whispered.

I waved him away, nodding. Yes, everything was okay! My best friend was about to go for it! Finally!

“I am,” Marcus said.

“Well—good luck with that . . . flat. I hope it goes really well. I can't wait to hear all about it!” Marcus laughed and Glenn gave me a weird look as I flipped closed the phone. “Everything's fine,” I said to Glenn. “But it's just you and me for the movie.”

“Oh. Okay. Shall we?” He held out his arm, and I laced mine through his.

“I have the tickets already.”

“Then I'll get the popcorn.”

“That'll probably cost about ten thousand dollars more than the tickets did.” I breathed in the clean scent of Glenn's shirt. I'd never been this close to him before. He smelled really nice. Suddenly, I felt unbelievably silly, out on this made-up “date” with Glenn. Marcus, you nut, I thought as we stepped into the cool, dark lobby.

“I'm sure the money will even out over the long course of our friendship,” Glenn said.

I giggled.

“You're very smiley,” Glenn remarked, looking at me suspiciously.

Suddenly, I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. The joke was too good not to share. “Okay, I have to tell you something hilarious.”

Glenn lifted his eyebrows, a smile creeping up half of his face.

I let out a little laugh-snort, then regained my composure. “Marcus is trying to set us up.”

For a moment, Glenn just looked at me blankly. Then, all of a sudden, he busted out into this huge belly laugh, like I'd just told him the best joke in the world. He laughed like he couldn't stop. The sound echoed through the cinema lobby.

“Hey!” I griped, punching him on the shoulder. “Thanks a lot! I'm not that bad!”

Glenn shook his head, confused, a smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, I had this weird feeling that maybe I wasn't getting the joke after all. . . . “Frannie,” he said slowly, “doesn't Marcus know I'm gay?”

I felt like the floor had just dropped out from under me. It was a physical sensation, like plunging down the far side of a roller coaster. It was just lucky that I was still holding on to Glenn's arm, because I had to grip his sleeve for support.
“What?”

Glenn's dark eyes were serious. He looked kind of upset. “Didn't you know?”

“No,” I whispered. “I'm sorry, I don't mean—” I didn't want Glenn to think that I thought it was weird that he was queer. Of course, I didn't care about that at all, although I was starting to wonder if my gaydar was seriously out of whack. I mean—what's the deal? I wondered. Is
everybody
gay? But something else was happening in my mind; I was struggling to make a connection. Glenn was gay. What did that mean? Could it mean . . . “Glenn—I hope you don't think I sound totally crazy,” I said slowly, fitting the jigsaw pieces together in my mind, “but . . . are you and Jeffrey . . . together?”

He gaped at me like I had a fish growing out of my forehead. “Uh—
no
,” he said, lifting one eyebrow. “Jeffrey isn't gay. He's really into
you
, remember?”

“He
is
?” I don't know why this shocked me so much, but it did. Suddenly I had to wonder. . . . Maybe all of those times we hadn't been connecting, maybe it was just because we weren't on the same wavelength. . . .

“He's totally crazy about you,” Glenn said. “He thinks you're sweet and funny and smart. . . .” He said a few more things, but I wasn't listening. My mind was working in overdrive.

Wait—

Jeffrey is into me.

Glenn is queer.

Jeffrey
isn't
queer. . . .

“Ohmigod!” I shouted. “We have to get out of here right now!” Dragging Glenn by the arm, I hauled him out of the cinema.

“Where are we going?” Glenn asked.

We're going to save Marcus from making the most humiliating mistake of his life! I thought desperately. But I didn't have time to explain. “To your car. I just realized that we have to go get Marcus.” I yanked out my cell as we ran and pressed redial.

“I thought Marcus was okay,” Glenn said. But he was running with me, thank God.

“I just realized that the spare has a leak,” I told him. “He can't drive on it.” Answer the phone, Marcus, I thought wildly. It rang and rang. No good. Clicking off, I tried again. Still no good.

Glenn's Honda let out a mechanical chirp as he used the remote to unlock the door.

I pressed redial again as I climbed into the car. I wasn't about to give up that easily. I was going to rescue my friend, no matter what.

“Where are we headed?” Glenn asked as he slid in behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.

To stop the madness, I thought crazily as I clicked off and punched redial yet again. “To Buckingham Fountain. As fast as humanly possible.”

“Who was that?” Jeffrey asked me as I turned off Dad's cell phone and stuck it in my pocket.

 

“I didn't recognize the number,” I lied, hopefully for the last time. I couldn't pick up Frannie's call, not right now. I was about to do one of the most important things I had ever done in my life, and the whole point was to do this on my own.

 

The setting was perfect. I'd chosen it carefully. Buckingham Fountain was public but not too crowded, beautiful but not too sappy, and miles away from Roaring Brook. There was almost no chance of running into anyone we knew. Plus, if Jeffrey laughed in my face, I could just drown myself right there.

“So anyway,” I said, “thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” he said. “I thought Frannie and Glenn would be here by now.”

I wondered if I seemed as nervous as I felt. “Yeah,” I said. “I guess I should start by telling you they're not actually coming.”

He pushed his hair back from his eyes. The way he squinted at me asked his question for him.