Lindsay's Surprise Crush (9 page)

“Because I, well, I felt like it,” he said, a little defensively.

“Does everyone in the whole school hate me?” she asked in a tiny voice.

He looked at her, baffled. “What are you talking about?”

Did he really not know? “Well, for starters, I didn't even get invited to the party tonight.”

He rolled his eyes. “It's a
soccer team
party, Linz,” he said patiently. “You don't
play
soccer, remember?”

“Yeah, well, that's not what I heard. I heard that it's way more than a soccer party and that Cassidy invited all the cool kids and I know she's intentionally excluding me because she doesn't like me and—”

“Lindsay, where are you getting all this bogus information?” asked Nick, looking genuinely perplexed. “Cassidy is not excluding you. She likes you.”

Once again, Lindsay could feel her temper getting the better of her, and her words spilled out without her feeling like she could control what she was saying. “Oh, yeah, right, as if,” she retorted. “She is so stuck-up and mean and you know she was going around spreading rumors about me and—”

“Hey,” he said. His face was stony. “You have to stop being so judgmental about stuff you don't know anything about. Cassidy is a really nice person. She's a good soccer player, and, well, you shouldn't always jump to conclusions and think everything is all about you, because it's not always, okay?”

He stood up.

“I gotta go,” he mumbled, and headed up the stairs.

LINDSAY WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING AFTER
another rough night's sleep. Her parents were already up and out—her mom had left a note on the kitchen table saying they were running their usual Saturday morning errands. Outside the rain poured down, which was appropriate for the mood she was in.

After eating half a bagel that tasted like sawdust in her mouth, she drifted into the living room and sat down at the piano to play. She played Chopin's Prelude in E Minor, the saddest piece on the planet. Her mother had once told her that Chopin had asked for it to be played at his own funeral. It seemed like an appropriately depressing piece to play this morning, when she was feeling deeply sorry for herself.

She searched through the stack of music for something else sad and depressing to play. Beethoven's
“Moonlight Sonata”—perfect. As she was beginning the slow, haunting arpeggios in the right hand, she heard her mom come in, talking with someone. She kept playing.

“Hey, honey!” said her mom from the doorway of the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt, but I found someone sitting on our front stoop, waiting to talk to you!”

Nick? Her heart leapt. Had he come to apologize? Could it be?

No, it couldn't. When she turned around, she found David Costello standing next to her mom, grinning his big purple smile.

“Good morning, Lindsay,” he said. “My, that's sad music, and you're playing it especially mournfully.”

“Um, hi,” said Lindsay dubiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Lindsay! That's not polite! David is my old student—one of the most talented musicians I've ever taught!” said her mother, putting a hand on David's shoulder. “He says he has a piece he wants you two to play together for the school recital. A duet. I think that would be fabulous.”

“David,” said Lindsay, feeling her annoyance level rising. “I thought we talked about this. I thought—”

She was getting the death stare from her mom.

Lindsay sighed. “Okay, bring it over and show it to me,” she said through gritted teeth.

Her mom nodded and smiled, and then disappeared into the kitchen.

He came over and sat down at the piano, propping the music up on the stand. It was a little too cozy for the two of them on the bench, so Lindsay scooched out and stood next to him, looking at the music.

“It's for the showpiece recital at school in two weeks,” he said by way of explanation. “Mr. Thompson was totally psyched when I told him we were going to play a duet together.”

“He was—what? You
told
him we were playing a
duet
even after I told you I didn't
want
to?” Lindsay stared at him in disbelief.

He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I knew you could be convinced. I've known your mother a long time, and although you are obviously very stubborn and appear to have a quick temper, you're smart and you're a good musician. I knew I could make you come around.”

“Well, if you know me so well,” said Lindsay, “then you also know that I would never play in public.”

Another wave of the hand. “Like I already told you,
you have to get over that. Plus, this will be great for your social standing at Central Falls Middle School, trust me. The kids will be all over it. This will make them forget all about the harvest dance nonsense.”

She stared at him, half-furious, half-fascinated.

“Look: It's in G major. One sharp. What could be easier?” He began to play the piano part, smoothly, effortlessly. It was really quite a pretty piece.

“I didn't know you still played,” said Lindsay, fascinated in spite of her outrage.

He shrugged. “I can play just about any instrument I set my mind to. But right now, I need to concentrate on clarinet. I believe I mentioned before that I have a crush on a girl in the band? Her name is Tiffany Riggins. She plays oboe and sits two seats away from me. This will definitely get her to pay attention. So you'll be helping out an old friend in the process.”

Lindsay surrendered to his infectious, offbeat, way-too-confident charm. “Let me try it,” she said gruffly, and sat down next to him, shoving him over on the bench.

She was a good sight reader, and the piece wasn't too difficult. After a few stumbles, she had the first two lines down pretty well.

“Excellent,” said David. “Next week I'll bring my clarinet to school and we can try it as a duet. We'll meet after school.”

“What if I have something to
do
after school?”

He gave her a mildly disappointed look, exactly the way her mom used to look when Lindsay assured her she'd washed her hands, when her mom knew she hadn't. “Come on. We both know you don't have an after-school activity. It will be a great excuse to hang around and take the late bus. You might even see that soccer stud of yours.”

Lindsay's mouth dropped open.

“Make sure you watch your dynamics.”

“Yes, sir,” she said in her most sarcastic voice. “I hope it will meet with your satisfaction.”

“I'm sure you'll be great after a few days of practicing,” he said, completely missing—or ignoring—her tone. “And now, a little advice?”

She braced herself for what he might say next. Who was this kid? Where did he get the confidence to dole out advice to her? They hardly knew each other, and he was a mere sixth grader. Didn't he understand his place in the social order of things? She was way more popular than he was, or at least she had been until yesterday.

“Stop being so proud. Stop worrying about what everyone is going to say or think. Just be yourself, because that's all any of us can really be. That's what my grandmother used to tell me, anyway, and you just looked like you could use that advice. Just guessing, of course.” David got up from the piano bench. “Well, gotta run. I have a music lesson at the academy in forty minutes. They think I'm a child prodigy.” He grinned. “See you at school.”

And he walked out, leaving Lindsay staring after him in amazed disbelief.

She spent the next hour practicing her part of the duet.

IT WAS STILL RAINING, BUT LINDSAY MADE THE
long walk anyway, not wanting to wait until the weather let up.

Rosie opened the door. She stared at Lindsay, aghast. “Lindsay! What are you doing here, standing in the pouring rain? Come in quick! Are you a nutcase?” She peered outside, looking for a car in the driveway. “Did you walk all the way here from your house? That's like, two miles!”

Lindsay stepped in and set down her dripping umbrella, but did not unzip her raincoat. She didn't want Rosie to think she was assuming she could stay for long. But Rosie insisted she take it off, so she hung it on the doorknob of the hall closet door.

Lindsay peered down the hall toward the kitchen, wondering if Rosie's family was around.

“They're not here,” said Rosie in answer. “They all went to the mall. I have to babysit later, so I couldn't go.”

Lindsay nodded. “Rosie, I came over to say I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Linz, I—”

“No, but listen. I really need to tell you this. You were right that I went and flirted with Troy. I was awful to pretend to Troy that I liked him. I only did it because I was trying to make Nick jealous. See, I know this won't be a surprise to you because I know everyone's talking about it, but the rumors are true. I really do like Nick. I seem to be the last one on earth to realize it. I didn't even really know I liked him until, well, until I finally admitted to myself that I liked him more than just as a friend. Even though he's going out with Cassidy, and he hates my guts. And it was really lame of me to fake that I was interested to Troy. I feel terrible about it.”

“Linz, it's fine. I totally get it. I understand. And anyway I don't even
like
Troy anymore.”

“Oh! You—you don't? Did something happen?”

“Yes. I'll tell you what happened. I finally realized—duh!—that Kevin Avery, the striker, is, like, to die for gorgeous.” She put a hand to her heart and then fanned herself. “Have you noticed?”

Lindsay smiled, overcome with relief. “No, I hadn't. I guess I should get to a game one of these days.”

“Yes, you should,” said Rosie. “I really appreciate the apology, Lindsay. I think I kind of overreacted and didn't let you tell me what happened, and I feel bad about it. But it's done, so now let's move on, okay? Come into the kitchen and I'll heat you up a cup of hot cocoa. My mom made it this morning and it is soooooo good.”

She linked arms with Lindsay and led her into the kitchen.

Lindsay sat down at the Pereiras' cozy kitchen table, feeling better than she'd felt in days. Rosie turned on the gas burner, which whooshed into flame below the pot of cocoa on the stove. Then she turned it down to low.

“So I have to ask. How was the party last night?” asked Lindsay cautiously.

“It was pretty fun,” said Rosie. “There were a lot of kids there but they were mostly all soccer players. Sasha and Jenn and Chloe were not there . . . they weren't invited, it turns out. There was a ton of supervision—like five caterers and a DJ and there was even a
lifeguard
supervising us in the pool.”

Lindsay nodded, hoping Rosie would get to talking about Nick and Cassidy.

“And the house was crazy nice,” Rosie went on. She ladled some cocoa into a cup and set it down in front of Lindsay.

It smelled amazing. She took a sip. It tasted delicious.

“It belongs to Cassidy's grandparents, I guess. They have a huge pool and a huge backyard and the house is huge with a ginormous kitchen and down in the basement they have a movie theater room and a game room that's better than a lot of arcades I've been to!” Rosie's words were tumbling out. “I guess Cassidy has a ton of cousins so the grandparents decked out the basement for when they all come to visit, but Cassidy said they don't even visit all that often.”

“What was her family like?” Lindsay said, no longer pretending she wasn't dying of curiosity.

Rosie furrowed her brow. “I don't think her parents were actually there,” she said. “The only one I saw was her grandmother, but she was all dressed up to go out to some fancy party herself. Anyway, it was really fun but I wished you were there.”

“Did you see Nick there?”

“Yeah, he showed up late, though,” said Rosie.

Of course he did. He'd been with Lindsay at her parents' party, getting mad at her. “Was he, like, hanging out with Cassidy all night?”

Rosie set down the ladle on a plate and turned to look at her. “Not really. He mostly was hanging out with his teammates. I talked to him a little bit. You know what, Linz? I am really glad you came over. But I think you also need to talk to Nick.”

Monday morning Lindsay's dad had an early meeting, so he gave her a ride to school. As she headed toward the area near the playground, where kids tended to congregate and socialize before school, the first person she saw was Cassidy.

Should I walk past her and pretend not to see her?
wondered Lindsay. But she didn't have the opportunity. Cassidy spotted her, waved, and hurried over.

“Today's my day,” she said.

Lindsay looked confused. “For what?” she asked. “Do you have some big game or something?”