The Pretty One(66)

“I’m fine,” I say, blowing my nose again.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home with you?”

“I’m sure.”

Lucy fluffs my pillows and sits on the bed with me and watches MTV. In spite of everything, it feels good to be with her. We used to hang out all the time, and it’s nice to experience something familiar after all these weeks of strangeness.

My sister seems to feel the same way and even kisses my forehead before she goes into the bathroom to get ready for her party. She comes out with her hair sleek and silky and wearing a cream-colored off-the-shoulders shirt and her dry-clean-only jeans. Lucy always looks good, but tonight she looks especially drop-dead gorgeous.

“Well?” she asks, giving me a little spin. “Do you think this will be enough to get me an invitation to the fall festival?”

Instead of responding, I blow my nose and nod.



I’m watching Trauma: Life in the ER and a doctor is just about to pull a live insect out of a woman’s scalp when the doorbell rings. Because it’s nearly eight o’clock and has been dark for over an hour, I grab the baseball bat my dad keeps behind his bedroom door just in case he has to whack any intruders. I remember what he has always said when Lucy and I have had to stay home alone: NEVER EVER OPEN THE DOOR FOR SOMEONE YOU DON’T KNOW.

But it’s not a stranger waiting outside the door. It’s Drew. Once again my heart feels as though it’s about to explode.

I put down the bat and open the door. Drew’s wearing his leather bomber jacket with a black T-shirt and jeans that are fraying around the pockets. His thick black hair looks as if he combed it with his fingers, and he’s holding a bouquet of daises in his hand. “In the mood for some baseball?” he jokes, nodding toward the bat.

I glance at the flowers and swallow hard when I realize that these are for my sister. I have spent a lot of time over the past few days imagining what I’d say to Drew when I finally saw him again. Right now I’m torn between “What’s your deal, anyway?” and “What kind of games are you playing?” But it comes out:

“Lucy’s already at the party.”

Drew’s grin is the same as the one he flashed in the car on the way to the comic book store—he knows something I don’t again.

“I stopped by to see you,” Drew says, holding up the flowers.

I look at the bouquet and then back at him. “Those are for me?”

He nods. “Can I come in? I won’t stay long.”

“Okay,” I squeak, pushing the door open. I suddenly realize I’m wearing the same hoodie I’ve had on for the past few days and I’m still in my gross pajamas, the ones I got for Christmas two years ago that have little monkeys eating bananas all over them and a hole in the butt. I haven’t showered or brushed my hair or teeth in three days, either.

“I’ll be right back.” Holding on to the butt of my pajamas, I turn and race upstairs. I throw on jeans and a T-shirt and pull my hair back in a ponytail. I flick on some mascara and brush my teeth until they’re sparkling.

When I get back downstairs, Drew is sitting on the couch, holding my daisies and watching me walk toward him. Although neither of us say anything, I can feel this electricity charging the air. I know I’m not imagining it, because Drew stands up and looks at me with such intensity that I can almost predict what he’s going to do next.

“Do you have a vase?” he asks.

Okay. Didn’t predict that.

“Sure,” I say as I turn and walk into the kitchen. Drew follows close behind. I reach under the sink and pull out one of Mom’s big crystal vases. I’m about to take the daisies from him when I notice that he’s staring at my nose.

“Do you have the flu or something?”

I instinctively lick the top of my lip and realize that it’s wet. Damn. “No,” I say quickly, grabbing a tissue off the table. “I just didn’t take my nose spray.” I rush upstairs and give myself a double dose. Fortunately, it works almost immediately and lasts for almost twelve hours.

By the time I get back to the kitchen, Drew has already filled the vase with water and put the flowers inside.

“All better,” I say, pointing to my now wiped-so-clean-it’s-red nose. We stare at each other and the electricity finds us once again. I glance from his eyes to his lips and feel my body trembling. “Thanks for the flowers. I love yellow. It’s my favorite color.”

Drew takes a couple steps toward me, reaches out, and runs his hand down my arm lightly. “You’re welcome.”

I grab on to the back of the chair to hold myself up.

He must misread this reaction of mine because he backs off and shifts gears on me. “So…how’s that diorama coming?”

I don’t answer him. I’m too busy thinking about what a miracle it is that he’s here and that he brought me yellow flowers. What happened to his big plans with my sister?

“The one you were working on the other day. Remember? I almost cut off my finger,” he teases, holding up his hand and pointing to a Big Bird Band-Aid.

“How could I forget,” I say, instinctually reaching out to touch it. The minute our fingers make contact a charge rips through me. But there’s this worried look in his eyes and I’m scared that I’m not misreading it. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a party with Lucy?” I ask, stepping away from him.