Love? Maybe. (14 page)

“Break a leg tomorrow,” I tell Jan as he holds the door open for us.

He smiles at me. “Hopefully not literally.” He stands watching us as we climb into the car. He waves as we pull away and closes the door behind him. I can see inside the shop where everyone is back to work moving and arranging and straightening.

“He’s a nice man,” my mother says, pulling out onto the street.

“He is nice,” I say. I glance over at my mother. She reaches across and squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. We ride in silence all the way home, but it’s a good quiet. Peaceful.

I push open the front door and notice two things immediately. First, the bunch of balloons that were delivered to my house is now down to just one balloon. There were a dozen, six orange and six yellow. My two favorite colors. The other thing I notice is that the house is quiet, eerily quiet.

Mrs. Bateman meets us in the hall, actually looking better than usual. “They’re both sleeping,” she says. “I just checked on them.” She keeps talking to my mother about their temperatures and who ate what and who threw up when. I walk through the living room and open one of the windows. The air from outside wafts through, making the house smell a bit better and making my last balloon bob in the breeze.

“Piper,” Mrs. Bateman says from the door. “I’m sorry about your balloons,” she says. “They were… well, I was
able to save one of them.” I smile in thanks. One is more than I would have guessed. My mother closes the door behind her and then heads upstairs. I follow her up and peek into Dom and Lucy’s room. They are both sacked out in their beds. They always look so little when they’re asleep. More so when they are sick and asleep. Dom rolls over and reaches a hand out to me. I take it. It’s hot against my skin.

“Hi,” I say softly.

“Hi,” he whispers. “I feel yucky.”

“I know,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed. I take the cold pack that Mrs. Bateman gave him and hold it on his forehead.

“Sorry about the balloons,” Dom says.

“Did you pop them?” I ask, knowing they like to run around and torment each other with the threat of the sudden, loud noise of a popping balloon.

Dom shakes his head and the cold pack slips over one eye. I push it back up onto his forehead. “We let them go,” he says.

“Did they go high?”

He smiles at me and nods. “Where do you think they’ll land?”

I pretend to think. “France,” I say.

“Really?”

I shrug. “Maybe,” I say. Dom closes his eyes. When his breathing deepens, I start to stand up, but his hand grabs at mine again.

“Piper, don’t hate Valentine’s Day,” he says. I sigh and look down at him. His eyes are still closed. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

“I’d like that,” I say, tears springing to my eyes. I wait another moment then walk to the hallway, where my mother is standing. She takes my hand and squeezes it. “They can be very sweet,” I say.

She laughs softly. “Yeah, when they’re running fevers.”

“Well it’s better than nothing,” I say, smiling. Mom pulls the door slightly closed to keep the light from the hall out of their room. I yawn, covering my mouth with my hand.

Mom pushes me toward my room. “Now you,” she says. “Bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She swats me lightly on the shoulder as I pass. I lie on my bed completely clothed, too exhausted to change into my pajamas. I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years. Unfortunately I only get to sleep for an hour before the sound of throwing up and crying wakes me. I stumble out to the hall, my eyes still half-closed.

My mother is holding Dom’s head over the toilet.

“Mommy!” Lucy calls from the bedroom. I walk in. “Piper, I feel—” But she doesn’t finish. She just bursts into tears. I pick her up out of bed and walk with her to my mother’s bathroom. I stay with her while she gets sick. By the time we get everything cleaned up and Dom and Lucy back in bed, I’m wide awake. I take a shower and pull on my pajamas. As I pass my desk, a slip of paper flutters to the ground. I pick
it up. It’s my father’s number. I tuck it under the edge of the paperweight and climb back into bed. I will myself to sleep, but it seems the more you need to sleep, the less you can. I push back the covers and grab my sweatshirt. I slide open my window and climb out onto the roof, careful not to make too much noise. Even so, I hear Charlie’s window slide open and then him stepping across the space between our houses.

“Stay upwind from me,” I say. “I may be infected.”

“How are they?” he asks.

“Yucky,” I say, stealing their word.

Charlie nods. “How are you?”

I take a deep breath. “I’m good,” I say. Charlie is quiet. He knows me well enough to know that good is never good. “You seem to be getting along with Jillian,” I say.

Charlie doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “Jillian is nice,” he says finally. I try to read his tone of voice, but I can’t. I look out over our neighborhood. Blue lights flicker in some of the windows. People watching television. A car alarm goes off a few streets away; then it’s gone as quickly as it began.

“Do you ever wish you could know what other people’s lives are like?” I ask.

“I don’t know if you can ever know,” Charlie says.

“But if you could,” I say.

Charlie is quiet for a long moment. “No,” he says finally.

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because that would go both ways,” he says. “Other
people would be able to see inside your life too.” I think about all the things I wouldn’t want anyone to know about me.

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess you’re right.” We sit for a long while, just watching the blinking lights in front of us. Looking up I spot a star twinkling in the otherwise dark sky. “First star,” I say. Charlie doesn’t respond. “What did you wish for?” I prompt. He’s quiet for so long, I don’t think he’s going to answer.

“I’m not sure I believe in wishes,” he says.

“What?” I ask with mock horror in my voice. “You’re the king of wishes. I mean, your last name is Wish. Man.” I figure that will get a smile out of him, but he’s quiet again.

“I’m going to—” Then without saying anything else, Charlie gets up and walks back across the roof and climbs in through his window. I sit still, my chin on my knees. I feel an ache in my chest, but even if someone offered me a million dollars, I’m not sure I could say exactly why.

T
he halls are filled to the brim with students hurrying to do nothing during break. I quickly spin the lock on my locker.

“What is it?” Jillian asks from behind me.

“Be patient,” I say, pulling my locker open. The bag propped on my books is bigger than the other ones have been. Jillian reaches around me, impatiently, and pulls out the bag. She looks inside.

“What is it?” Claire asks, hurrying toward us. Jillian tilts the bag so she can see inside. “Flip-flops?” She looks at me. I shrug and pull out the books I need for my morning classes.

“You love flip-flops,” Claire says, as if I need reminding. I am the Queen of Flip-Flops. I own easily twenty pairs. Most of them are like the ones in Jillian’s hand. Cheap and brightly colored.

“I guess they’re cool,” Jillian says, but her voice has lost its enthusiasm.

“Caff or front lawn?” Claire asks. The day is really sunny and warm, but I need something to drink and vote for the caff.

While Claire and Jillian grab a table, I get in line for the coffee bar. I order mochas for Claire and Jillian and a cup of orange tea for me. For some reason coffee just doesn’t sound very good. As I carry the drinks to where Jillian and Claire are sitting, I see Stuart over in the corner with a bunch of soccer players. Thankfully Christi isn’t with him. I sit down across from Claire. She looks at me and shakes her head a little.

“Look,” Claire says, pointing over to a table where dozens of people are waiting in line. The crowd parts enough to allow us to read the sign hung across the front of the table.

I roll my eyes. “I’d forgotten about the Student Council carnations,” I say. Jillian tilts her head at me. I remember this is her first Valentine’s Day at Montrose. “Every year, the student council sells carnations for a dollar each. Then during homeroom, they go around and tie them to everyone’s locker.”

“And that’s bad because…”

“You’ll see,” Claire says. I nod, remembering last year. For the three days leading up to Valentine’s Day all anyone could talk about was how many flowers they got. Claire got thirteen. One from me. Twelve from Stuart. I got two. One from Claire and a pity flower from Stuart.

“It’s awful,” I say. “Just another scam to make single people feel even more alone and isolated.”

“I’ll buy you a flower,” Claire says. I smile at her.

“Thanks,” I say. I hate to admit it but, even if
I
had to buy my own flower, I probably would. A totally empty locker is social suicide.

“What are you worried about?” Jillian asks me. “You have Ben Donovan. I have no one.”

Claire sits quietly for a moment, staring at her lap. “Jillian, you have Jeremy and Charlie and probably half of the freshman class,” she says. She looks up at us. “
I
have no one.”

“You’re wrong,” I say. “You have us.” Claire gives me a smile.

“Piper’s right,” Jillian says. “You have us. And don’t pay attention to me. I have no idea what I’m talking about half the time anyway.”

“True,” Claire says, elbowing her. Jillian pretends to be hurt, but she can’t keep from smiling.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow night,” Jillian says.

“Tell me you told Charlie,” I say. I thought about telling him last night, but then it got so weird.

“I told you,” Jillian says. “It’s a surprise.”

I take a deep breath and start to tell her
again
that Charlie doesn’t like surprises, but Claire beats me to it. “Charlie hates surprises.”

“Everyone—” Jillian begins, but Claire and I are both shaking our heads.

“We tried to throw him a surprise birthday party in seventh grade,” I say.

“He wouldn’t talk to us for a month.”

Jillian sighs. “I’ll call him,” she says.

I check my watch. “You’ll have to leave a message,” I say. “He’s still at swim practice.”

“Every time I try to call him, he’s in the pool,” Jillian says, making me wonder how often she tries to call him.

I guess Claire wonders the same thing. “So, are you two spending a lot of time together?”

Jillian just smiles as she pulls out her phone. She starts texting. “I’m just telling him I have a surprise for him,” she says. She puts the phone on the table and takes a sip of her mocha. A rooster crows as her phone lights up. She holds it up and looks at it. It makes me feel funny that she has one of Charlie’s weird ring tones. That’s always been something he’s done for me. “He says he can’t wait.” I look over at Claire, who just shrugs. “Guess you two don’t know him as well as you think you do,” she says.

“I guess not,” Claire says.

“Guess not,” I say. I take a sip of my tea, savoring the warmth on my throat. I feel a lot like I did a year ago when Charlie’s dad was talking about the two of them relocating to California. It feels like he might be moving, but now it’s not across the country. It’s just away from me.

Jan texts me during fifth period. I’ve been dying to call him all day to find out how everything with the Food Network went, but I haven’t had two seconds to myself. Luckily I have the sounds on my phone turned off, because Mrs. Beckensail doesn’t just confiscate your phone for the rest of the period if she catches you using it, she keeps it overnight.

Need help.

—Jan

That can’t be good,
I think, tucking my phone back into the front pocket of my backpack. I try to call him back after class, but both his cell and the store phone click immediately over to voice mail. I finally just text him.

B there @ 4.

—P

I find Jillian after fifth period and ask her to come to Jan’s with me. If things went badly with the Food Network people, I might need help cheering him up. I spend all of sixth period trying to imagine what could have happened. Short of accidentally pouring boiling sugar on the host or finding a cockroach mixed in with the caramels, I can’t come up with a single reason why Jan needs my help. Turns out Jeremy can’t either. When I find Jillian after school, Jeremy’s with her. He got the same text I did.

We start walking toward the bus stop. Jillian calls her
mother and tells her not to pick her up at school.

“Sounded like picking me up was the last thing on her mind anyway. I probably didn’t even need to call.”

“Yes, you are utterly forgettable,” Jeremy says. Jillian shakes her head at him, but she’s smiling when she does it. I call my mother to tell her I’ll be home right after I stop by Jan’s. I agreed to take over for Mrs. Bateman after school.

“Take your time,” my mother says.

“But I thought Mrs. Bateman had to leave at five.”

“She does, but I found someone else to cover for her.”

“Who?” I ask, wondering who my mother could possibly convince to sit with the vomit twins.

“Beau.” If my mother had said she got Mary Poppins to watch them, I wouldn’t have been more surprised. She starts laughing when I don’t say anything. “I know,” she says. “He called this morning to talk about the weekend and I told him the kids were sick. He volunteered to come right over.”

“And you’re sure he did?” I ask.

“Yes, Piper,” my mother says. “I just got off the phone with him. He was reading to them when I called.”

“Wow,” is all I can think to say.

“Sometimes people surprise you,” she says. “Oh, I talked to Jan earlier. He sounded
stressed
.” Since when is Mom talking to Jan? “So, listen. Call me when you’re finished. I’ll come get you.”

The bus pulls up, sending a cloud of exhaust over us. Jillian and Jeremy race to the back like they’re little kids. “What, no
animals this time?” the driver asks me. It’s the same one that let me bring Chi Chi on board.

“Not this time,” I say. I drop into the seat behind the driver. Jillian and Jeremy don’t seem to notice I’m not sitting with them. Jeremy is telling Jillian something that is making her laugh so hard she’s having a hard time breathing. I lean back in the seat and think about what my mom said, about how people can surprise you. I look back at Jeremy and Jillian still laughing. I mean, that’s a surprise. And Beau actually volunteering to take care of the kids is a surprise. And Ben Donovan asking me out is a surprise. But so is my dad calling after two years and Stuart cheating on Claire. It’s too bad people surprise you in bad ways as much as in good ways.

The bus hits a bump hard. Jillian screams, then laughs. I hear Jeremy telling her to stop embarrassing him and her laughing again. I yank the cord above my head when we get close to Commerce Avenue. The bus slows down. Jillian and Jeremy are up and past me before I can even pick up my backpack. I follow them down the sidewalk, watching my feet passing across the cracks where grass has pushed up through the concrete. I almost run into the back of Jeremy, who is stopped right in the middle of the walkway.

“What are you—” I look up at the parking lot in front of Jan’s. It’s jammed with several vans and a big truck with what looks like a satellite dish on the top of it. “They’re still here?” I ask. We push through the crowd gathered on the
sidewalk in front of the shop. A man with sunglasses on puts his hand out, stopping us.

“They’re filming,” he says. We can see Jan talking to a man wearing a bowling shirt. He’s pouring sugar syrup into the big copper kettle he has hanging in the window. A tray of apples with sticks poking out of the top of them is on the table beside the kettle. Bowling Shirt Guy picks up an apple and dips it into the kettle as Jan talks. He gives the apple a twist and deposits it back on the tray, but now it’s covered in a thin layer of red candy. Jan looks up. He sees us and says something to the man still dipping apples, who turns to the cameraman. He makes a slicing gesture across his throat and the cameraman lowers the camera. Bowling Shirt Guy motions us inside. Sunglasses Man steps aside and holds the door for us.

The guy with the bowling shirt reaches us first, his hand out. “You must be Jeremy,” he says. Jeremy shakes hands with him. “Piper?” He turns to Jillian, but she just shakes her head and backs up. He looks over at me.

“Yes,” I say, taking his hand. He shakes it, but doesn’t let go of it. Instead he pulls me to the counter.

“Talk to me,” he says. He motions to the cameraman, who lifts the camera. “Oh, is it okay if we film you?” he asks. I nod, not sure what else to do.

“This is just the initial run-through. We’ll get you into hair and makeup when we actually start filming the segment.” I look over at Jan, but he’s just smiling at me. Bowling Shirt
Guy gestures at the cameraman again and a red light on the camera comes on. “So Piper Paisley, tell me how you came up with your idea for breakfast-flavored taffy.” My brain freezes and all I can do is repeat his question in my head then the word breakfast over and over. I look to Jan for help, but he tilts his head at me and grins.

“Well,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I got the idea from my little sister.” I talk about some of the other candy I’ve developed. The condiment taffy collection. He tries one of the relish-flavored ones and smiles.

“It’s surprisingly good. Tell me about these,” he says, holding up a box of my Consternation Hearts. He pours some into his hand and the cameraman comes over and films the candy close-up. A silver heart is nestled in his hand along with the pastel Consternation Hearts. I glance over at Jan, but he won’t meet my gaze.

Jeremy is next. He talks about his bacon truffles and other things I didn’t even know he was working on: chocolate-covered potato chips, chocolate-covered pickles. He talks about why he decided that dark chocolate was a better match for the pickles, but that the chips needed milk chocolate. Jillian sits at one of the tables. I worry for a moment that she feels left out, but the Food Network guy asks if she can help with some of the demo work, dipping apples, pulling taffy, tempering chocolate. While we get our hair and makeup done, which only Jillian seems to enjoy, someone calls all of our parents,
making sure they have permission to put us on television. We each have to sign a lot of forms, which our parents will also have to sign before they can air the show.

“We’re in sort of a rush,” one of the producers tells us. “We were just going to do a short segment for our
Tastes of America
show, but when we got here, we realized that this place is a gold mine. We’re actually going put together a Valentine’s Day special and then tomorrow, we’re going to film an episode of
Sweets
here. The host is flying in late tonight from the Aspen Food and Wine Festival.” I keep nodding as all the information washes over me.