Drive Me Crazy (4 page)

Chapter Six
Cassie

I
’ve got to hand it to Nono and Howie—they picked a stunning hotel for our first night. The whole place is posh, and I love all the organic shampoo and lotions in the bathroom. The pool is even more spectacular. Glowing lanterns are strung above the patio, with a few threaded over the water so their light glimmers on its surface. There are waiters in crisp shirts, and lounge chairs with striped cushions as thick as the mattress on Tom’s futon. There’s a cabana bar along the right side of the pool, where women in stylish cover-ups sip icy drinks and smile at each other or their handsome companions.

“Kendra Mack would die,” I whisper, reaching into my bag to get my phone for a picture.

“There’s Grandma Tess and Grandpa Howe,” Lana says, pointing. I press her arm down with my hand and whisper through the side of my teeth: “Rule Number Three: No Pointing, Ever.” Part of it’s because pointing is rude, but also because I’ve spotted some good-looking teenage boys hanging out together on the opposite side of the pool. I don’t know if they’ve seen us yet—I hope not, since I had to come in next to Lana and her mighty Speedo one-piece—but I don’t want to make them think Lana and I are talking about them, either.

“Well, I hope the photo turns out,” she says. “I’m getting in.”

I drift over to the curved corner of the pool, where there are some empty tables with bronze umbrellas over them. I’m taking photos, while also sneaking glances at the boys, trying to get a sense of how old they are.

I send Kendra Mack the best one of the pool, with the message
Cute boys here too!

This gets her attention.
As cute as Loverboy?

I blush and can’t help smiling. Ever since my former best friend Fiona’s Big Horrible Diary Betrayal, I haven’t talked to
anyone
about my secret crush on Cory Baxter, unless you count telling Lana he was my boyfriend. But Kendra Mack needs info on everyone, and doesn’t seem to let up, ever, so she’s always trying to get me to spill about
who it is I like. Cory Baxter isn’t really the kind of boy Kendra Mack and her friends think of in a romantic way, though. Eventually I’ll tell her, of course. I just want to make sure the other girls won’t think I’m lame for liking him. Or that Kendra Mack won’t forbid me to stop, like she did one time to Neftali Manji when she said a boy in the grade below us was cute. It’s a fun game between me and Kendra Mack, anyway—her making a big deal about my secret Loverboy.

Just as cute
, I type back, shooting a glance at the boys.
But sportier.

Ooh, ooh. You should invite them to your Labor Day party.

I pause. My family throws a barbecue in the backyard every Labor Day weekend, but it’s not like a big party. Mom and Dad invite their best couple friends over, and Tom and I are allowed to invite one or two friends as well. We eat a lot of grilled food, play badminton, and run around with sparklers. This year, since Fiona and I aren’t friends anymore, I mentioned it to Kendra Mack, which brought on a ton of questions about what she should wear, and who would be there. Whether Tom was inviting any high school friends. It seems like she thinks it’s a lot fancier than it really is.

Your pool party is sooner. Should I invite them to that?
I type.

Only if they’re REALLY cute. Send a pic!

Getting close enough to catch a picture of the boys makes me nervous, but if Kendra Mack asks you to do something, you don’t chicken out. So I stroll leisurely around the opposite side of the pool to find a good shot, passing Lana and our grandparents crowded together on one of those giant lounge floats. Nono and Howie already have fruity drinks, but Lana must be waiting for me before she gets hers.

“Hey, you guys look great,” I holler, positioning myself so that the cute boys are right behind them. “Let me take your picture.”

“Come get in the pool, Cass.” Nono paddles them closer. “We miss you.”

“Right there is good,” I say, not wanting her to mess up my shot. “It looks so pretty with the light. Say cheese.”

They smile and I click my screen. Then I tilt it just a little higher to catch the boys, so jittery I think I might drop my phone in the water.

“I’ll get in in a minute,” I call back to them, crossing back over to my table.

The picture isn’t very good, but I send it to Kendra Mack anyway.

Not bad, not bad. Are you going to talk to them?
she texts back.

No way. Not in front of my grandparents, anyway.

Oh yeah. They grossing you out yet?

Since they’ve brought us to such a knockout place, and really haven’t been that bad so far, except for the strawberry patch gooeyness, I don’t want to talk bad about Howie and Nono.

No vomiting yet. Now, my stepcousin, on the other hand . . .

I can imagine.

Kendra Mack knows all about Lana—at least the annoying parts. Lana’s utter cluelessness delighted the whole lunch table when I told them about her after the wedding, so I amped up her dorkiness and all the questions she kept asking. (Though of course I skipped over the ones about me and the wish-it-happened kiss with Cory Baxter.) I also left out how I got in trouble, and Lana’s dead-on impression of the crazy, champagne-silly great-aunt who kept pulling everyone onto the dance floor.

Yeah, well. I’m stuck for now, I guess
, I type.
So glad we’ll be able to celebrate my freedom at your party!

Another text comes in while I’m typing: one from Izzy Gathing. It’s a thrill and a surprise, since Izzy Gathing is second-best friends with Kendra Mack. (Cheyenne Taylor is first, and Neftali Manji is third, which means I’m fourth if you don’t count Gates Morrill.) Even after all my time
at the lunch table, Izzy Gathing has never gotten super friendly with me, so to hear from her now almost makes me squeal.

KM is finalizing invitations and wants to know if there’s anyone else you think she should invite?

That Izzy’s asking me is too exciting to question. I make a couple of safe suggestions—people I’m pretty sure Kendra Mack’s already invited but that will be cool and thoughtful for me to mention. I wish I could throw in Cory Baxter’s name casually, but if I’m not telling Kendra Mack about him yet, I’m certainly not telling Izzy Gathing.

While I’m doing that, another text comes in from Kendra Mack:
Cheyenne Taylor’s here, so I have to go. We’re planning outfits. Have you thought about what you’re wearing?

While I finish typing to Izzy Gathing, and start replying to Kendra Mack, I see Lana coming my way. Probably sent over by Nono.

I’m going shopping this week too!
I lie. Souvenir shops are probably the closest thing to a mall I’ll see all week, even though shopping used to be one of Nono’s and my favorite things. Before Howie and Lana came along.

I catch Kendra Mack’s last message right as Lana reaches my table:
Awesome. Send more pics! ;)

Lana is clearly not happy to have been sent on this
mission. “Grandpa Howe wants to know if you’re ready for your poolside beverage, since you’re not coming over.”

“I was just finishing up,” I say, lifting my hair to let it spill down over my shoulder in a way I know looks regal.

“Okay, well. I’m going over to the cabana to order.”

I put my phone away and sneak a glance at the boys’ side of the pool. They’re definitely looking over here now.

“I’ll go with you,” I say, smiling wide and letting Lana go ahead. It’s a trick Cheyenne Taylor does, to make sure any boys watching will see her walking away.

Chapter Seven
Lana

W
hen Cassie finally puts her phone back, I notice that her cute little beaded bag matches her swimsuit in the most perfect way. I want to ask her where she got it, but Rule Number One: No Annoying Questions is sticking in my head, so I say nothing. At the cabana, the guy behind the bar asks us what he can do for us, and Cassie pores over the menu with this look on her face that I guess she thinks is aloof, but I already studied the drinks list while Grandpa Howe and Grandma Tess were ordering theirs, so I’m ready.

“Kids’ Banana Colada, please,” I say, smiling as nice as I can.

Cassie tosses her hair and acts like she can’t decide.
“What do you think is best?” she asks the guy serving us.

“Well, it depends,” he says, amused. “What sort of thing are you in the mood for? Creamy and sweet? Maybe something tart, like strawberry?”

Cassie glances at me. We both smile. “I think I’ve had enough strawberry today.”

“How about a Blue Lagoon, then?” he says, making Cassie blush for some reason. “It’s blue raspberry, coconut milk, and pineapple—very refreshing.”

“That sounds perfect,” she says.

We watch the pool while we wait for our drinks. It looks like Cassie and I are maybe the youngest people here, though I see a group of teenage boys pushing each other around in the deep end.

“They are soooo cute,” Cassie says.

I look again. They seem more like horsey goofballs to me, but if Cassie thinks they’re cute, then they must be, since she knows so much more about that kind of stuff than I do.

“Let’s go closer when our drinks are ready and see if they talk to us,” she says.

The Annoying Question comes out of my mouth before I can stop it: “But what about your boyfriend?”

She blushes again, this time not as prettily as she did
when she ordered her drink. “It’d just be talking. Don’t you think it’d be fun?”

Mostly I want us to be together with no one else around, but it doesn’t seem Cassie’s so into that, and if she won’t let me ask her questions, I’m not sure how much talking can get done, anyway.

So as the waiter delivers our drinks—Cassie’s is as blue as a Smurf and mine has a huge skewer of bananas and pineapple poking out the top, plus the tropical umbrellas as Grandpa Howe promised—I mask my disappointment and say, “Sure.” She positions us across from the boys, and we sit on the edge with our legs in the water.

Cassie leans back on one hand and takes a sip from her drink. “So, who do you like back home?”

I think of Tamika, and Grandpa Howe and Grandma Tess, of course, plus the grown-up friends I have because of Mom and Dad, but that isn’t what Cassie means.

“Well, I have this friend Henry,” I try.

Cassie’s eyes get curious for the first time on this trip. “What’s he like?”

“Um, he’s got brown hair, and brown eyes. He likes mountain biking a lot. . . .”

Suddenly she’s the one with Annoying Questions: “How do you know him? Do you see each other a lot? Is he cute?”

I try to remember how Henry and I started being friends. “We have art class together. And sometimes we ride bikes on the weekend, around the park near where we live.” I avoid the cute question altogether.

“So, like, a date?”

I think about this. Henry lives on the other side of the park from me. Usually we meet in the middle and ride around whatever trails we feel like until we’re ready to go home. Sometimes we talk, but mostly to point out birds or people or interesting growths on trees. I like being with Henry because he’s someone my age but isn’t as busy and loud as Tamika and her brothers can be. There are never parents around when we go on our rides, but I don’t think anyone would consider them dates. With Cassie looking at me like that, though, I wonder if that’s what Henry thinks they are. I’m not sure I’d like it as much if he did.

“No, they’re not dates,” I finally say.

“Well, do you like him, though?”

I picture Henry in my mind: his puzzled concentration when we stumble on a plant he hasn’t seen before. The way he can spot birds high up in trees that no one would ever notice. The navy-striped Keds he wears, and how good he is with watercolors. Probably somebody likes Henry in a crushing way, but it’s not me.

“He’s my friend. It’s hard to see him in, you know, that
way.” I gesture faintly to the high school boys, then stop myself, remembering the No Pointing rule. They’ve gotten out of the water and are digging into a big plate of nachos their mom ordered, so they probably wouldn’t notice, but Cassie would.

“Well, I bet he likes you, if he’s constantly asking you out for bike rides,” she says.

“I don’t think that always has to be true.” It comes out in an abrupt way that surprises me. When Cassie’s face shows the same surprise, I apologize and take a sip of my drink, hoping it counts as a way of changing the topic.

“Don’t be sorry,” she says back. “I’m just curious what you mean.”

I look at her. I haven’t really thought about this much, but I try to explain.

“I just don’t think a boy has to be in love with you to spend time with you. In fact, it’s nicer if he isn’t, right? Then you can have fun without all that weird stuff. You can hang out without constantly thinking about holding hands.” It’s embarrassing to say that, but I don’t pause. “That seems like it would be sad.”

Cassie’s looking at me with an expression that’s part processing what I’ve said, part agreeing, part not sure. I’m not sure either, since I don’t usually talk about boys and crushes, especially not with someone like Cassie.

“I haven’t ever thought about it like that,” she says, looking back across the water, though not at the boys. “But I think you’re right.”

A wave of relief, and pleasure, spreads over me. “I guess all your friends at home have boyfriends, though, huh?”

Cassie makes an annoyed snort. “Not everybody. Kendra Mack and Cheyenne Taylor always have boys they’re crushing on, but that never lasts for long. Maybe, like, one day. Two class periods, sometimes.”

“That sounds hard to keep up with.”

“It is,” she says, rolling her eyes at first but then straightening up. “I mean, that’s just because Kendra Mack has such high standards.”

I can tell she doesn’t want to talk badly about her friends, so I change the subject.

“She must approve of you and Cory together, though, right?”

Cassie blinks and takes a long sip of her drink. “Sure. She thinks he’s terrific.”

I ask her about what group dates they’ve gone on together, but she tells me she and Cory don’t see each other a lot because they don’t share any classes and her parents are so strict.

“He’ll be at Kendra Mack’s pool party when we get back, though,” she says with a far-off smile.

I want to ask her more, but the boys from the other side of the pool have finished their nachos and decide to take that exact moment to leap into the water not far from us. Their giant splash soaks us both.

“Oh my god,” Cassie says, pushing back her half-wet hair. “Do you think they did that on purpose?” She sounds aggravated but also a little delighted.

I shrug. I’m not sure what their jumping in the pool would have to do with us, or why it would be a good thing if it did. Mainly, I think it was funny, but I can’t tell if that’s okay or not.

Cassie squeezes out the ends of her hair. “Think we can make a bigger splash?” she asks.

I smile back at her. “We at least need to try.”