Just Like the Movies (20 page)

“Lily, are you
crying
?”

In the past few weeks, I've learned a lot about Lily. She is logical. She thinks. She makes plans. She doesn't freak out or overreact.

Basically, she's not like me.

Which makes her crying into the phone a completely foreign concept. There's only one thing that could make her this upset.

“Did something happen with Joe?” I ask. Lily sighs loudly.

“Yes. No. I don't know.”

“Hold on a second.” I grab my bag off the table and wave to Mr. Chastain. When I'm out the door, I take a deep breath.

“You guys were supposed to sell tickets today, right? How did that go?” I prompt her.

Silence. I wait another few seconds, then exhale hard.

“Lily, what is it? Did something happen? Tell me.”

She makes a weird, defeated sound, a sort of groan mixed with a grunt.

“I asked him out,” she finally says. “I asked Joe out, and he said no.”

I stop at the locker room door and stare at it, trying to think of what to say.

“Wow—I didn't realize you were planning on doing that.”

“Yeah, well. I saw my window and I took it.”

When I get inside the locker room, I throw my bag on the floor and sit a on a bench. Already, the wheels in my head are spinning.

“You know,” I say to Lily, “they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“Um, seriously? Gross.”

I shake my head, even though she can't see me. “I don't mean that you actually have to, like, get
under
someone—it
just means that, well, you've had this crush on Joe forever and maybe it's time you give someone else a chance.”

She doesn't say anything; I take it as a signal to continue.

“You know, Tommy's bandmates are all single. Why don't I try to see if they want to hang out with us this weekend? We could try a double date . . . oh! Oh! Listen, it could be like in
The Notebook
—remember when Allie and Noah get set up on that movie date and they fall in love and all?”

For a second, I can't hear anything. I pull the phone from my ear to check if I have service when I hear her speak again. She doesn't sound happy.

“Please tell me you're kidding.”

“What's the problem?” I ask her. “Mason's supercute, right? And Jimmy—I mean, he isn't a rocket scientist or anything, but that doesn't mean—”

“Marijke. I am
in love
with Joe Lombardi.
Just
Joe Lombardi. I've been
in love
with
just
Joe Lombardi for the last two years. I don't want a replacement.
I want Joe.
”

“Exactly. Come on—focus. Think about the movies. Remember
Drive Me Crazy
? It's all about how you can use one person to get the person you really love. Of course, then the two users fall for each other in the end . . . but it's a movie, so that's what you expect to happen.”

“That's disgusting.”

“Well, jealousy is one way to get a guy and it usually works. Maybe you need to embrace your devious side.”

“Just forget it,” she snaps. “Like I said, I never should have done this. There's a reason all these things work in movies. It's because they're fiction.”

“Come on, Lily, don't give up . . .”

“No. I should have known better than this. I don't know why I thought this could actually work out.”

She sounds broken. She sounds completely unlike the funny, smartass girl I've come to know.

“I was so sure this would change everything,” she whispers, “and maybe it will for you, Marijke. Maybe the movies are the key to
your
happily ever after. But they aren't the key to mine. And I don't know why I let myself believe I was different.”

“You
are
different,” I say. “Come on, look at you. You've totally put yourself out there. Volunteering to help with Bikes for Tykes, wearing that sexy outfit—think about it!”

She scoffs into the phone, and suddenly her usual sarcasm is back in full force.

“Yeah, for all the good that did me. And you know what? That I can thank
you
for—thank you
so very much
for forcing me to be someone I'm not.”

I blink rapidly. “I-I never meant to change you—that wasn't the point.”

“Yes, it was—you
know
it was. Because you knew the truth—that Joe would never have been attracted to me just as I am. Or was. Or whatever.”

For a second, we both sit in silence, letting her accusations and anger and my confusion and hurt simmer and condense around us. Finally, she sighs.

“Look, I just wanted you to know that I'm calling it off.”

“Calling what off?”

“This—whatever the hell this stupid plan was. I'm done. I've reached my conclusion and there's no reason to keep trying all these crazy schemes. It's over for me. So you're off the hook.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You're off the hook. You don't have to pretend to be my friend anymore.”

I jerk back, almost toppling over the bench.

“Seriously? You think I'm
pretending
to be your friend?”

“Well, aren't you?”

I'm a little surprised at the tears that prick the corners of my eyes. I mean, all my emotion has been tied up with Tommy and the movie plans Lily and I have come up with. But truthfully, I've been spending more time with Lily than I have with Tommy or my teammates or anyone else for that matter. And I've had more fun with her than I've had in a long time.

They say you can fall in love at first sight. What about falling into friendship? Can you become BFFs over the course of a few short weeks?

“If that's what you think, then I guess there's no reason
for us to keep talking,” I say, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice. “I thought—I thought I could really trust you. I thought we were . . .”

I trail off, shaking my head.

“Whatever. I've got to get out on the track. I'm missing practice.”

I wait for a response, but there's nothing but a short buzzing noise, then empty space. I glance at the phone's screen. The call was disconnected. Either she hung up or something happened to the connection.

I guess it doesn't really matter now anyway.

I'm not really mad at Marijke. Well, I
am
—I'm just more mad at myself. For once in my life, I can't get home fast enough. I want to curl up under the covers and block out the world.

Despite my best efforts, Joe's face flashes through my mind again. The pity in his expression was completely obvious—and totally humiliating.

But it's not as if I should have expected anything different.

I don't know what I was thinking.

That's my new mantra.

Home doesn't prove to be any better, though. The second I walk in the door, I see Mom running through the kitchen half-dressed with the phone pressed against her ear.

“I said I was getting ready,” she says into the receiver. Her voice is breathless and sort of scratchy.

“Mom, what's going on? Are you sick?”

I follow her out into the living room, but she waves a hand at me and shakes her head. Then she coughs.

“Jim, I heard you. I understand, I'll be ready in ten minutes.”

She slaps the phone down on the coffee table and I stare at her.

“What the hell was that?” I ask. She shakes her head.

“Nothing.”

Mom starts up the stairs, but I'm not willing to let it go. I barrel after her.

“Was that Jim on the phone?”

No answer.

“Seriously? You're gonna let him talk to you like that?”

Sighing, she turns around on the top step and I jerk to a halt behind her. “He had a crappy day, Lily. We're going to get some dinner and maybe go bowling.”

“Mom, you're sick. You can't go to the smokiest building known to man if you have a cold.”

“I'm fine—it's just allergies.”

I cross my arms. “So I'm assuming I'm watching Mac then?”

Mom crosses her arms too. “Yes, I was going to ask if you wouldn't mind doing that.”

“Oh really?” I hear the scorn dripping off my words. “Were you really going to ask me if I wouldn't mind? Or were you just going to take off and expect me to do it?”

She narrows her eyes. “I don't know what has gotten into you, young lady, but I didn't raise my daughter to talk back like this.”

“That's because you hardly raised me at all,” I mutter, pushing past her and stomping into my bedroom. I don't wait for her to respond before I slam my door.

I don't come out again until I'm sure she's gone. The sound of Jim's car pulling into the driveway, then the opening and closing of the front door signal that it's safe to come out. I pad out over the carpet and duck my head into Mac's room, where he's lying on his bed, staring at the little TV on his dresser.

“Hey buddy.”

He glances up at me, then back at the screen.

“Hey.”

“You all right? Want me to make something to eat?”

“Nah. I'm okay.”

I sit on the edge of his bed. “Are you upset about Mom leaving?”

He shrugs.

“She said she was going to make macaroni and cheese for me—the good kind, with the shells. I guess she forgot.”

I reach over and give his shoulder a light punch.

“You saying I can't make the good kind of macaroni and cheese? Are you questioning my kitchen prowess?”

Mac wrinkles his nose. “What's prowess?”

“Don't worry about it.” I heave myself back up. “I'll call you when it's ready, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Lily.”

I give my brother a smile and try to pretend his sadness doesn't make me even more angry at my mom.

“No problem, little dude.”

A half hour later, I'm willing to admit Mac is right—the macaroni and cheese with the shells is
so
much better than that other powdery box stuff. I groan in satisfaction as I take another bite. This is exactly what I needed to drown my sorrows in.

I camp out on the sofa and channel surf until I land on
Mean Girls
. Regina George has just pretended to like some girl's skirt, then made fun of it behind her back. Seeing that makes me wince.

Why did I think I could break into a crowd that I never belonged to?

Why did I try so hard to fit in when it was so freaking pointless?

I think the worst part, though, is that I know Marijke isn't like Regina George—at least not when it comes to being a bitchy queen bee who wants to rule the school. She was actually becoming a good friend. In the end, it doesn't
really matter. Just like in the movies, the silly, unpopular girl realizes that what she wanted in the beginning isn't nearly as important as she thought.

I guess my life is like the movies after all—just not in a good way.

“Marijke, hang back for a second.”

Coach Mason has a couple of different voices—this is the one he uses when he's about to ream someone out. Great.

Yeah, it wasn't my best practice. I know that. I can't help that Lily's phone call is still echoing in my head. Had I forced her into being someone she wasn't? Had I just been using her to get my ideas to work? Really, neither of us had succeeded—there isn't an “I love you” in my life yet, and Joe is out of Lily's reach.

“Marijke,” Coach says again, his voice filled with undisguised disappointment.

“Yeah?”

I slow my pace and wait for him to rip into me. Instead, he falls into step beside me and gives me an uncharacteristic look of concern.

“Is everything all right with you? I've never seen you so . . . so disconnected from your body. I don't think you even recognized the hurdles were there today.”

I shake my head. “I didn't get to warm up. I was late because I had to clean up the kiln in the art room. There was an accident . . . don't even ask. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”