P.S. I Loathe You (12 page)
Bending her knees, Massie lined up their eyebrows just like they do in the
New York Times
wedding section, then smiled for the camera. “Say heyyyyyy!”
“Heyyyyy!”
The flashes flashed. “Two captains!” Massie noted, in case the school paper needed help captioning the photo. Then she unhooked Kristen with a gentle nudge.
“Good job today, team.” She air-clapped. “Now go check on Layne.
Stat
!”
Without hesitation Twizzler, McNugget, and Claire bolted for Nurse Adele’s office, leaving Massie to model her uniform, pom-pom clutch, moccasins, and ponytail extension for the weekend style section.
Alicia inched toward the flashing cameras, her smile slick with gloss. But like an old lady shuffling toward the only available stall in a crowded bathroom, Massie “accidentally” knocked her out of the way.
Derrington and the Perfect Storm were still talking in the bleachers. She helped him stand and he put his arms around her for balance. Normally Dylan would have asked around to find out her story. But her love was forbidden, forcing her to work alone. Dylan looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching her.
“Derrick!” she called, her tone basking in sunshine.
He lifted his palm.
Propelled by her speeding pulse, she kangarooed up to the bleachers. “Hey!” she beamed, as if completely unthreatened, even though she completely
was
.
Perfect Storm knit her perfect brows and side-glanced at Derrick in a “who’s the Red Bull addict?” sort of way. Dylan took
some
comfort in knowing Massie would eventually destroy Perfect Storm, but not much.
“So,” Dylan stalled, searching for the perfect opener. “I’ve, um, been meaning to ask you. . . . Did uh . . . your sister like the birthday presents?” she said, even though he had already texted the answer earlier in the week. “You know, the ones we bought
together
?”
He looked at Perfect Storm, who giggled.
Dylan felt like she swallowed her feathery pom-pom clutch. She knew it! She was way too
ew
to get an alpha male. Her bones were t-
ew
big. Her hair was t-
ew
thick. Her skin was t-
ew
pale. Her mother was t-
ew
famous. Her status was t-
ew
beta. Her burps were t-
ew
—
“Why are you asking
me
?” Derrick chuckled through his nose.
Perfect Storm giggled again, her pitch so snooty that it drew tears from Dylan’s eyes like a snake charmer’s flute. Even if Derrington didn’t like her
that way
, he didn’t have to make fun of her. And Perfect Storm didn’t have to twirl a cheap nail-file key chain around her finger like she was—
Ehmaga—
“That’s the key chain we bought at the dollar store!” she screeched, even though she meant to ask.
“Yup.” He grin-nodded.
“Hi, I’m Sammi.” She offered her delicate right hand.
“Hey.” Dylan shook, giggling away her anxiety.
“Thanks for the sixteen presents.” She dangled her nail-file key chain, proudly displaying the key to her new Mini Cooper. “It was such a cute idea, the first thing I asked him was who thought of it.”
Derrington confirmed that with a nod.
“And what did he say?” Dylan leaned closer to Sammi, overcome with the urge to lip-kiss her in an “I’m beyond excited you’re related to him and not a potential threat” sort of way. But she managed to restrain herself from all physical contact.
“He said . . . ” She side-glanced at her brother, warning him she was about to say something dangerous.
Dylan’s heart revved again, from joy to heart attack in 1.5 seconds.
“Don’t!”
Derrington limped toward Sammi.
“What?” Dylan asked, pressing her palm into his red hoodie, holding him back.
Sammi smiled slyly. “He said his future girlfriend helped him.”
“Did
not
!” Derrick whipped an empty cup of soda at his sister’s head.
She cackle-dodged it by an inch. “Hey, be in the parking lot in three minutes unless you want to hobble home,” she warned. “Oh, and nice meeting you,
future girlfriend
!”
“Go!” Derrick lifted a bag of popcorn, but Sammi bolted before he could throw it.
Now that they were suddenly alone, Sammi’s confession enveloped them like a thick fart. It was too embarrassing to admit they could smell it but too pungent to pretend it wasn’t there. Awkwardly, Dylan and Derrick looked at their feet and cracked up, like a bag of almost thrown popcorn was high-rolling comedy.
The crowd was beginning to thin. Soon the photographers would be gone and Massie would see them.
“Is it true?”
“What?” Derrington asked, even though he knew.
“That I’m your
future
girlfriend
?” Dylan’s moccasins jingled while she shifted nervously.
OMG, did I seriously just say that?
“No,” he said softly.
The bells stopped. Everything stopped.
“Whaddaya mean?” Dylan squinted, trying to look confused instead of crushed.
“You’re my
current
girlfriend.” Derrick playfully socked her on the arm.
Dylan smile-sighed, exhaling thirteen years of insecurity.
“Is that okay?”
On the field, Massie was posing for cell phone pictures with a bunch of seventh-graders. It was now or never.
Dylan dared herself to look into Derrick’s brown eyes. Double-dared herself to step toward him. And triple-dawg-dared herself to lean in and lip-kiss him.
As if he could read her mind, Derrick stuck his neck out like a rooster and pecked her on the mouth. It was quick. And their mouths were closed. But her heart leapt into her throat and beat like a victory drum. She’d done it!
They’d
done it! If Crush had been the name of a video game, Dylan would just have scored and moved up a level.
Derrick limp-turned halfway around and wiggled his butt with glee.
Did he do that after he kissed Massie? Or was that custom-made just for me?
OMG! MASSIE!!!!!!
Thankfully, the alpha was wrapping up her last cell photo session and hadn’t seen a thing.
But someone else had.
Alicia was grinning with satisfaction, waving her phone like a sinister comic book villain.
“Ehmagawd!” Dylan checked her messages, her heart now beating a funeral dirge.
“What
is
it?” Derrick asked with sincerity, like only a new boyfriend can.
“Nothing,” Dylan mumbled, nervously clicking the photo Alicia had sent. An image of their lip-kiss popped onto the screen with a message that said “1000 gossip points for me!”
“She
can’t
,” Dylan gasped, searching the field with wet-eyed urgency.
But Alicia was already gone.
MASSIE’S BEDROOM
Friday, October 2nd
8:09 P.M.
For the first time ever, Massie’s white- and purple-accented bedroom smelled like Cinnabon. And nawt the scented candle version from Target. The real, honest-to-goodness, butter-and-sugar, bought-it-at-the-mall, diabetics-beware, jeans-don’t-fit, I’ll-start-my-diet-on-Monday deal. Yet none of her sleepover guests noticed. Not even Dylan. They all seemed distant, preoccupied. It was like hearts were the new stomachs.
A buzzing cell phone forced their thoughts back to the room.
“It’s mine.” Massie tapped her iPhone, basking in the delicious warmth of all eyes on her. “Ehma-y
ay
!” she shrieked. “Dempsey just invited us to Rye Playland Sunday. His parents rented it out for some orphans thing and they have extra tickets.”
“Are any other boys going?” Alicia smoothed her ivory, down-filled sleeping bag.
“He invited the Socc-Hers and the Socc-
Hims
.” Massie giggled at her little joke.
“Yayyyy!” Claire and Alicia jumped up on the bed and hug-jumped for joy.
“Josh!” Alicia shouted.
“And Cam!” Claire joined in.
“Josh!”
“And Cam!”
“Josh!”
“And Cam!”
“Down!” Massie snapped her fingers, a gesture usually reserved for Bean. “Kris, want me to ask if you can bring Dune even though he’s not on the team?”
“Yeah, sure.” Kristen rolled onto her tummy, propping her chin on her fists. “Sure.”
“Don’t sound too excited,” Massie mumbled, her thumbs speed-scuttling across her touch screen.
“Whaddaya mean? I sounded excited, didn’t I? Because I am. I toe-dally am—”
“So, what’s it like having Dune back?” Dylan asked.
Massie rolled her eyes. She had been waiting for the right moment to discuss Dempsey and whether his text meant he liked her, but now Dylan had hijacked the conversation and driven it back to Boringtown.
“Ah-mazing.” Kristen nodded excitedly, her head making up for the lack of enthusiasm in her voice.
“Have you guys lip-kissed yet?”
“We haven’t been able to cuz I’m grounded.”
“You know what?” Alicia sat down on Kristen’s butt. “Josh and I wore the same Ralph shirt this week by total accident.”
“Apple C.” Claire giggled.
“Point!” Alicia lifted her finger just as Kristen bucked Alicia off her butt. Alicia landed on Dylan’s leopard-print sleeping bag with a thud.
Dylan quickly turned away.
“Speaking of C”—Alicia sat up and finger-combed her glossy hair—“D, are you still a C-minus, or have you found someone?”
Dylan’s eyes narrowed slightly as she folded her arms across her chest.
“C-minus,” she blurted, her eyes narrowing even more. “So, um, Kuh-laire, how many times did you and Cam lip-kiss this week?”
Claire blushed. “I don’t lip-kiss and tell.” She playfully slugged Dylan with her pillow. Then she held up two fingers and giggled.
“Ehmagawd!”
the girls squealed.
Massie rolled her eyes.
“Dempsey and I will probably lip-kiss after Rye Playland,” she interjected, sounding more certain than hopeful. “The only reason we haven’t done it already is ’cause he’s been so busy with soccer and I’ve been so busy with—” She suddenly stopped herself. Claire and Cam were in the same situation and
they
still managed to see each other. “Who’s ready for my new game?”
“Meeee!” Everyone raised their hands.
“Sit in a circle,” Massie instructed.
The girls shimmied onto their sleeping bags and crossed their legs, their satin pj-covered knees touching, in a “we’re best friends” sort of way.
“Make room,” Massie grunted as she lowered a silver platter of Cinnabons and a crystal bowl of low-fat, low-sodium popcorn into the middle. She pulled Bean onto her lap and joined them.
“This game is called Given/Nawt Given,”
the alpha announced. “I invented it last night.”
“Point?” Alicia asked, sounding bored, like someone who had never invented a game but wished she had.
It’s really just a veiled tactic; a way for me to gossip about my crush issues without coming off like an insecure LBR,
Massie thought, but she’d sooner have gone bald than admit it.
“The
point
is, we take turns asking each other questions. If your answer is
given,
you get to eat the low-fat popcorn and stay thin. But if it’s
nawt given
you have to eat Cinnabon and get opposite of thin.”
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Claire asked. “You know, like the
reward
is the Cinnabon and the
punishment
is popcorn?”
“Ah-greed.” Dylan giggle-high-fived Claire.
“Nawt unless you wanna be the Fat in the Hat on Hal-loween.” Massie rolled her eyes. “Now let’s start.”
“Pause.” Alicia held up her palm. “If our answer is yes, we say ‘given’ and eat Cinnabon?”
“No,
low-fat popcorn
,” Massie insisted. “Watch. I’ll start.” She twirled her purple hair streak. “I have a crush.”
The girls stared at her blankly.
“Well?”
The alpha widened her eyes.
They kept staring.
“Do you have a crush or nawt?” she insisted, exasperated. Did she have to spell everything out for them?
They nodded yes.
“Then say ‘given’ and eat
popcorn
!”
“Ohhhhh.” They giggle-reached for the crystal bowl.
“Hey, Dylan,” Alicia purred. “Is there something you’d like to share with everyone?”
“Huh?” Dylan mumbled, her mouth full of popcorn.
“You’re a C-plus?” Massie could hear the disappointment in her own voice. How dare Dylan have a crush and not tell the alpha first?
“Ooops!” Dylan regurgitated the chewed corn into a white cloth napkin. Then, rocking onto her knees, she reached for the silver platter. “I got confused.” She bit into the round pastry and speed-chewed.
“I bet you did.” Alicia lifted her dark arched eyebrows.
“Next.” Massie looked to her left.
“’Kay.” Claire giggled, already digging into the bowl. “My crush likes me back.”
“Given.” Alicia joyfully placed a single piece of popcorn on her tongue.
“Given.”
Kristen did the same.
“Nawt given.”
Dylan stuffed the rest of the Cinnabon in her mouth.
Massie’s hand hovered tentatively above the snacks. Did she look as lame as she felt?
Smugly, Alicia ate another piece of popcorn just to prove she had no doubt.
Dylan swallowed loudly. “I say it’s a given.”
“How do you know?” Alicia asked, braiding her own hair.
“Because who wouldn’t like
her
?” Dylan leaned across the circle and tapped Massie’s foot encouragingly, as if she were some spastic boy in Little League. “Soon Massie and Dempsey will be a total couple, and she’ll throw water on Derrington, and—”
“I have another one,” Massie said, getting to the heart of the matter. “Some guys think Layne’s cute. Given or nawt given?”
Claire tentatively took a burnt kernel of popcorn and placed it on her tongue. Of course, if Massie had been playing truthfully she would have too. But come awn, she’d invented this game to
get
answers, nawt give them.
“Nawt given,” the other girls replied, reaching for the Cinnabons.
“I’ve lip-kissed my crush,” Alicia blurted. “
Given
. When I got back from Spain.”