Maine Squeeze (45 page)

And then the next thing I knew I woke up with snow on my face and I was spooning right next to Tom.

I heard him say, “Good morning.” I quickly checked to see if my clothes were on. They were. I said, “Good morning” back, and he turned around like the devil had spoken.

“Oh! I thought you were Laura,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said. “My sleeping bag is so thin. I sort of … had to.”

“Oh. Well, whatever.” He got out of the sleeping bag and stretched his arms over his head. The sun was coming out, and the air felt a lot warmer already.

“This is so
cool
,” Tom said. We sat on the edge of the roof, ate donated donuts that were dropped off by someone's parents, and looked out at the sunrise.

I kind of felt like we were in that IMAX
Everest
movie. Only we didn't have to hike up more than Goat Hill, there was plenty of oxygen, and nobody died.

“This was harder than I thought,” I told Tom. “I didn't really think about the fact it would be November.”

“Yeah. But we made it. And you know why? You're a survivor, Courtney. Just like me.” Tom slapped me on the back. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone how you came on to me last night.”

“I didn't come on to you,” I said. “I was trying to avoid hypothermia.”

“Okay, fine, whatever you say.” Tom took another donut. “
We
know what really happened.”

I have to run to school now—I'm late late late!

Beth and I were at work today. She kept disappearing on me. Like she'd start to go outside, sneaking through the supply room, and then she'd stop. And come back. But finally she did go outside, so once I had a free second I went to find her.

She was standing outside, with her back pressed against the wall like she was trying to hide. And she was SMOKING.

“Have you ever done something that you thought maybe you shouldn't be doing?” she asked me.

“Hel-lo. Like
smoking?
” I almost screamed. What were we, Truth, Dairy, and Nicotine now?

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I can't help myself.”

“Are you serious?” I said. “That's all you've been talking about lately, how much you
can
help yourself and control your life.”

She just took another drag.

“Beth! Snap out of it,” I said. “You don't need to smoke. Remember all that junk you said about steps and addiction? And those disgusting black grilled-lung photos and—I mean, do you realize how many
hours
you spent lecturing on the evils of smoking?” I tried to grab the cigarette from her hand, but it was impossible.

“I still believe in that,” Beth said. “But sometimes you have to be yourself.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” I can't believe her!

Beth again. Courtney tries to hide this now, but we found it under her computer keyboard. This needs to be documented: we're all going to a big party shortly, at Keith's house. Homecoming! Whoo-hoo. Like I care. I can think of many things I'd rather be doing. (Not smoking. Not smoking. I slipped up, but I've confronted my feelings and faced my problems head-on and that won't happen again.)

Tom made this point of personally asking Courtney and then repeating himself like 6 times. So we're all calling it a date. Except Courtney. She's claiming to be only going because we are and because it's good for the student council for her to be seen in public. And because Dave might be there, and she only saw him for about 5 minutes today, and he said he'd “see us tonight,” but I could tell he wasn't coming
.

Anyway, come on, if Tom asked me 6 times? I'd know he was interested in me. Especially since they bonded after their Winter Wonderland roof adventure
.

Courtney is spending a lot of time getting dressed when you consider she hates the Tom. What do you think, Jane?

Look, Beth—
you
dressed nicely when
you
went out with the Tom.

I didn't know I was going to go out with him. We didn't go out, anyway. We made out in like … the coat closet
.

And on the street. And outside the house. And on the sidewalk.

He was a good kisser. What can I say?

More than that!!!

Tom
said
things. Nice things. About my hair. My sweater. Junk like that
.

Your sweater? Oh, gag, I think I'm going to be sick.

You don't get it, Jane. Nobody gets it until it happens to them
.

Exactly why Courtney is wearing her favorite shirt and that flowered mini that looks so good on her. Oops, time to shove this back where we found it so she doesn't kill us this time.

Yes, I'm home early, and I can't believe Jane and Beth stole this to write in
again
. I'll get them both their own blank books for Christmas. Hold on, let me write that on my list. Okay, so I'm back.

What was I thinking? Was I just dressing up to look good because Dave might be there? He wasn't there. I pretty much knew he wouldn't be—like he was too cool now to go to a (long-distance) high-school party. That sort of made me mad, but I sort of expected it. Anyway.

Did I just want Tom to notice me, like those guys said? I guess so. He'd been acting like I was an asexual ugly freshman. (Okay, like I
still was
one. Because it's true, the apple doesn't fall far from the divorce tree and when I was 14 I had braces and a bad attitude and custody hearings to attend.) And you can't come on to every straight female (like he even asks whether they're straight or not) in Colorado and
not
come on to
me
. So okay, I was flirting a little. But did that give him the right?

We were standing in the kitchen, near the fridge. We were laughing about the sleep-a-thon, how we should have volunteered to sleep in the bookmobile, no, wait, drive it. Or we could have sat in one of those tanks with the bull's-eye and gotten dunked.

He hopped on the counter and said he'd like to see me in the dunk tank, like in this challenging tone, as if I deserved it because I've been so impossible to deal with lately. I sort of leaned against him. Then I got the idea that wasn't it. It was more about me in a wet T-shirt. And I sort of liked that he thought that. Maybe I'm just desperate and need someone to notice me, maybe it was time to end this self-imposed no-dating rule. I mean, I technically don't eat meat, and the other day I had another of Oscar's hot dogs—okay, that was a really bad analogy. But you can't be pure wheatgrass, meat free and clear, all the time.

But wait, that slip doesn't even count, because hot dogs aren't even technically
meat
.

Okay, so back to the story. So then Tom said the party was lame and we might as well go do layout together, it would be more fun. He meant yearbook layout; I knew that, but he didn't
say
it like that, and besides, he was sort of playing with my hair when he said it. I felt like everything was leading to one foregone conclusion. So when he said he was going to the coat closet I said I would go with him—of course. Because I was thinking about it, and at least with Tom, it wouldn't
mean
anything, it would never be a dating relationship for more than a few days anyway, so I wouldn't break my rule.

When I walked over to the closet, Beth was dancing in the living room, waving her arms frantically. I think she had too much coffee at work today. It was really weird. She was just hanging with Jane, not trying to hook up with a guy or anything. Totally unlike her.

The closet was packed, unlike the party. We sort of bumped into each other when we went for our coats. Something could have happened right there. But it didn't. We put on our coats and then he walked me to my car and I kept waiting for him to do something. And it was really cold. So eventually I felt really stupid and I just got into the Bull and drove home. Alone. Him not following me. He probably went back into the party and picked up someone else.

What the?

Would it be so awful to make a move on me? Since when is playing with someone's hair
okay
if you don't plan on kissing them later? Maybe he wasn't playing with it, maybe he was taking a tortilla chip crumb out of it. Still!

What am I talking about? It's Tom.
The
Tom. Like I
care
.

Dave called this morning. He started off by saying, “Yes, is Mr. Novotny in, please?” That was pretty funny. He said he was sorry about not meeting me at the party the night before. I was glad he hadn't been there—he would have seen me get blown off by Tom, which is something that's like never happened before. Ever. It would have been really humiliating. Then again, if Dave had been there, I might not have wanted anything to happen with Tom. Not sure.

Then Dave said he really wanted to talk to me, but it was hard with all those people around. And he knew I was leaving town for Thanksgiving in a few days, so could I come up there?

But when I got there, he had nothing to say. Maybe it was because Chad was giving this other guy a haircut and a platinum bleach in the room. We didn't exactly have much privacy.

“Then, Dave,” I said, trying to be mature, “why did you call me?”

“I miss you?” he said with a sort of shrug.

There was this unbelievably awkward silence. I kept playing with this tassel thing on his bedspread. He's had this blue-and-white-checked bedspread since he was 8. He's the only boy I know who has one at all in his dorm room—not that I know a lot of guys with dorm rooms, but. You get the picture. I think his was actually a tablecloth once upon a time.

“So do you want to get something to eat?” one of us finally said. We ended up walking over to the Hill. We were leisurely strolling along when I saw an empty storefront and a giant sign: D
ENVER'S
V
ERY
O
WN
T
RUTH OR
D
AIRY
—C
OMING
S
OON TO
B
OULDER
! W
ATCH
T
HIS
S
PACE
!

How could Gerry do that to me? I mean, how could he do it without telling me—and Beth? I hate when people do things without telling me! What is he thinking, anyway? Okay, we're a popular store, but I think what makes us special is there's just one of us.

Dave was psyched, though. Can't wait for his favorite smoothie to be back in town.

We walked around, and it seemed like it used to be between us, but it wasn't. We were all limp-like, droopy, lifeless. Especially when we went to say good-bye and gave each other this half hug. Our relationship (if we still have one? If we have one again?) needs a high-energy power powder infusion. The more bee pollen, the better. Any kind of pollen.

Maybe we should just let it die.

So Dave called tonight while I was in the middle of my new Turbo Yoga (it's the pumped-up version of relaxation) tape and told me he's been seeing someone. He was trying to tell me all day, but he didn't know how. That's why he didn't go to the party—he had to go back to Boulder to see her. “But it's no big deal,” he said. “It isn't anything serious.”

I sat there clutching the phone wondering why I'd ever given him my control plus code. This felt more like out-of-control. Sweat was running down my wrist. I started writing things with it on my forearm, like YOU SUCK. But I ran out of sweat.

I hate being told important (ugly, horrible) news on the phone! I hate it whenever and wherever I get it. Especially when it's from Dave.

I asked if it was that resident adviser person. He said no, it's someone else, a sophomore. Then he actually started to
tell
me about her, like I wanted to know, like I'd asked. I hung up as soon as I could.

I flashed back to the night in August out by the BBQ when he told me he wanted to be free and clear. Is dating someone else being free and clear?

I had him so close to a burning hot fire that night. Why didn't I
do
something?

I HATE HIM!

When I got to work, completely dragging my heels, fifteen minutes late, I asked Gerry why he hadn't told us about the new store. He said he wanted to surprise us—also, the lease almost fell through. But he said more exciting details would be coming soon. I asked if he meant more stores. He said we were going to start offering more choices “within the Truth or Dairy tradition of good fruit and good food.”

How about the Truth or Dairy tradition of crazy owners?

Jane picked me and Beth up from work. We went to this new coffee place where we could be guaranteed privacy—it's in one of those new developments where they don't even have street names yet. We barely found our way in. But Jane has this nose for coffee, she could probably find her way to Starbucks if it was located in a landfill. Survival instinct.

“We shouldn't even be here,” Jane said. “We should be somewhere we can meet guys. Because that's what you need, Courtney—a new guy.”