We Are All Made of Molecules (13 page)

I HUNG OUT WITH
Ashley and Jared in the family room. They sat next to each other on the couch, and I sat in my mom's chair. I think they were feeling really shy because they hardly said a word.

“First game's coming up at the end of next week,” I said to Jared, trying to keep the conversation going. “I've been working on my routine. Want to see?”

Jared shrugged, still feeling shy, I guess. So I peeled off my socks and busted some moves for them, including (if I do say so myself) an excellent rendition of “The Worm.”

When I was done, Ashley had her face hidden in her hands. But Jared was smiling. “You're gonna knock 'em dead, Stewie.”

“It's Stewart,” I said, but I was pleased.

“Don't you have homework to do?” Ashley said.

“No, I finished it at lunch.”

Ashley turned to Jared. “We could go to your house.”

“No, we can't. My folks pay our housekeeper extra to watch me like a hawk.”

Ashley and I had very different responses to this. Mine was “Why do you need to be watched like a hawk?”

Hers was “Wow. You have a full-time housekeeper?”

Jared just stood up and wandered over to the mantel. “What's with all the figurines?”

“They're Stewart's,” Ashley said, like she was trying to distance herself from an unpleasant situation.

“They were my mom's,” I told him. “She collected them. Each one has a story behind it. For example, this one”—I picked up a delicate fairy perched on a toadstool—“belonged to my mom's great-grandmother. And this one,” I continued, picking up a boy with a fishing rod, “is a real Royal Doulton that my grandma, my mom's mom, gave her on her wedding day. And
this
one,” I said, picking up Dopey, one of Snow White's seven dwarves, “is Dopey. I bought it for my mom a couple of years ago.”

Jared sneezed.
“Achoo!”

“Bless you.”

“Achoo!”

“Bless you.”

“Achoo!”

“Bless you.”

“Do you guys have a cat?”

“
He
does,” Ashley said.

“I'm allergic.”

I got down on my hands and knees and looked under the couch. “Yup. There's the culprit. Come on out, Schrödinger.”

“Put him in your room,” Ashley snapped. “And while you're at it, put yourself in your room, too.”

“It's okay,” Jared said. “I should get going anyway. My folks will be home soon.” He looked at Ashley. “Walk me to the door?”

“Of course.” Then, over her shoulder to me: “You.
Stay where you are
.”

So I did. I pulled Schrödinger onto my lap. He flipped onto his back and stretched out all four paws and purred loudly as I rubbed his belly.

After what felt like a long, long time, Ashley returned. “Oh my
God
!” she said. “Could you not have left us alone for, like, five minutes?”

“What? He's my friend, too.”

“No. He's not. He's your acquaintance. Don't be so dense, Stewart. I think he likes me, and I like him. If you wreck it for me, I swear I'll kill you.”

Two death threats in under a week!

“And don't you dare tell my mom that Jared came over.”

“Why not?”

“She has this stupid rule that I'm not allowed to have boys over unless an adult's home. It's super-harsh and old-fashioned.”

I thought about this for a moment. “But if he was visiting
me
, it would be okay.”

“Yes,” said Ashley, “which is totally unfair—” She stopped as what I was saying dawned on her.

“So if, in the future,
I
invited Jared to come over…”

“That wouldn't be breaking any rules. Stewart, you're a genius!”

“Not really. I'm just using some tools I learned when I was a part of the Model UN. Sometimes we had to bend certain rules to get what we wanted. For example, when I represented Denmark, we had to make a few small financial promises to Greece before they'd get on board with our humanitarian efforts in Bangladesh—”

“Okay, stop talking now.” She flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV.

“Of course,” I continued, “you have to promise me something in return.”

“You're bribing me?”

“I prefer to call it
negotiating
.”

“What? What do you want?”

“You have to agree to everything I say at dinner tonight.”

“
Pfft
. Fine. Whatever. Now, go.”

So I went, carrying Schrödinger in my arms. But I was smiling.

Because I was already hatching a plan.

—

SOME PEOPLE WOULD SAY
that Ashley's nonexistent relationship with her dad is none of my business. Some people would say it's something only they can work out.

My mom would never, ever have said that.

Before she had me, Mom was a family counselor. Ms. Janice Beaudry, her maiden name. It took her a long time to go back to work after I was born (I suspect because I took a lot of her time and energy), but when I was eight, she went back
part-time. She saw a lot of families from all walks of life, parents and kids who were having problems getting along for a billion different reasons. Mom loved her work, and she was good at it. She had a sign in her office:
I DON
'
T CARE HOW POOR A MAN IS
;
IF HE HAS FAMILY
,
HE
'
S RICH
. I thought she'd made it up, but apparently it was written by a couple of TV writers, for an episode of a show called
M*A*S*H
.

I'm not an expert like she was. But I felt that at the very least I could try to nudge things along with Ashley and Phil, because (1) when you've lost a parent, you don't have much patience for people who complain about theirs, and (2) selfishly speaking, this wasn't just
her
family anymore; it was mine. And I wanted us all to get along.

Which is why I said the following over our dinner of frittata and salad that night: “Ashley and I think it would be nice to invite Phil to dinner.”

Ashley started to choke on a piece of frittata. My dad gave her a couple of thumps on the back. She picked up her water glass and drank, glaring at me the whole time. But she didn't say anything.

A meaningful look passed between Caroline and my dad. “Well,” Caroline said, “I'm impressed. Surprised, but impressed.”

“We had a long talk,” I continued as Ashley kept sipping her water, “and I convinced Ashley that we can't shut Phil out of this new family that we're trying to build. He needs to be a part of it, too.” I smiled, convinced that Mom would have given me a gold star for that little speech.

Caroline looked quizzically at Ashley; I think she
suspected the idea hadn't come from her. But all she said was “Well. This is incredibly mature of you, sweetheart.”

“It really is,” added my dad.

Ashley's nostrils flared and I could tell she wanted to rip my head off. But visions of Jared must have been dancing in her head because all she said was, “You don't need to look so shocked. I've always been mature for my age.”

“I'll call Phil after dinner and arrange it,” said Caroline. “Unless, Ashley, you'd rather—”

“No!” Ashley said. “You can talk to him.”

I helped myself to another big piece of frittata and smiled on the inside.

Once I've graduated from university? The UN should hire me for real. I think I could solve a lot of the world's problems quite handily.

IT'S JUST OVER A
week since Jared first walked me home, and the rumor mill at school has officially started.
Everyone
is talking about me and Jared, and the fact that we are possibly, maybe,
ohmygodIhopeso
becoming “an item.” I am getting tons of envious glances in the corridors, even from girls in tenth grade, which is a wonderful high.

Even though Jared and I don't have any classes together, we do have the same lunch break, and he's joined me in the cafeteria
every day
! The first time, Lauren was already sitting with me, and she
so
did not grab a clue; she stayed with us the whole time. But when Jared sat down with us again the next day, I said, “Um, Lauren? Don't you have something to discuss with Claudia?”

“No,” she said.

“I'm pretty sure you do,” I replied, staring at her. “So buh-bye.”

She finally got the hint and left.

Jared laughed. “You have her well trained. Does she roll over and play dead, too?”

“Yes, but she isn't fully housebroken,” I replied, and we both laughed, and I felt
so good
because normally I only think of good comebacks two or three days later.

Still, I felt kind of guilty when I saw Lauren at her locker later. Her eyes looked red and her skin looked splotchy, like she'd been crying.

“I didn't mean to be so harsh earlier,” I said. “I just really wanted some time alone with Jared.”

“It's okay. I should have clued in.”

“Yeah, you should have. But I love you anyway.”

“I love you, too.”

We hugged, and all was well again.

I have to try harder to be kind to Lauren. After all, she's not as fortunate as I am. And she's my best friend.

But back to the important stuff: Jared was out of town for the weekend, but he came over twice after school this week. Then, on Friday after school, I went to the gym to watch the Borden Bulldogs' first home game. I'm not big into basketball, but I'm big into Jared. I sat between Lauren and Claudia. The guys were warming up on the court, and I was admiring Jared's muscular calves and shivering, 'cause my jacket was still in my locker and our gym is freezing.

Then the most amazing thing in the world happened.
Jared ran up to me and handed me his warm-up jacket. In front of everyone!! I felt so cozy and happy for the rest of the game I didn't even care that the Bulldogs lost.

Or that Spewart totally humiliated himself in front of the entire school.