How to Take the Ex Out of Ex-Boyfriend by Janette Rallison Read Free Book Online

me—the outsider, breaking up with multigenerational him. I raised my voice to make it clear for him. “Jesse, we are over!”
    Unfortunately, as soon as I’d said the word “Jesse,” the choir stopped singing. Without the speakers blaring, my words filled the room. Half the audience turned around to see why I’d yelled. No, I’m wrong about that. It was the entire audience. Even Jesse’s mother, who stood on the stage in front of the choir with her back to the audience, looked over her shoulder at me. You’d think as choir director she would have been professional about the whole thing and gone on with the next song, but you would be wrong. She kept staring at me, waiting, I suppose, to see if I had any other announcements to share with the crowd.
    â€œWell,” Jesse said in a quiet voice, “I guess I’m ready to leave after all.”
    â€œI’ll find my own way home.” I stood up and stormed toward the door. The choir finally began their next number, but by that time it was too late. They’d lost the crowd’s attention. Every single pair of eyes followed me across the room. Including Wilson’s and Bridget’s. She looked like she was waiting for me to get out of earshot so she could laugh, but Wilson, well, Wilson’s wide eyes were harder to read. I had no idea what he thought.
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    â€œYou did what?” Dante said after I’d told him what happened. He stood over motorcycle parts in our garage and shook his head like he hadn’t understood me.
    â€œI broke up with Jesse because he’s working on Wilson’s campaign instead of yours. I thought you should know.” After all, everyone else did.
    More head shaking on Dante’s part. “Sheesh, Giovanna, it’s a high school election, not a kidney transplant.”
    Okay, I hadn’t expected him to give me a hug or anything, especially since his hands were all greasy. But still, I had expected a more touching response. Maybe a thank you.
    â€œHe’s working against you, Dante. Friends aren’t supposed to do that.”
    â€œHe said he owed Wilson a favor. I could understand that. It just means I’m going to have a great time rubbing it in when Wilson loses.”
    I leaned against the door frame and folded my arms. “Why does Jesse owe Wilson a favor?”
    Dante shrugged. “I don’t know. They’ve been friends for a long time. Wilson’s probably done a lot of stuff for Jesse.”
    I resented my brother’s calmness. My own insides hadn’t stopped churning since I stormed out of the hotel ballroom. In a harsher voice than I should have used, I said, “Jesse told me he doesn’t think you have a chance because you’re a newcomer.”
    â€œYeah, well, Jesse is wrong about a lot of things. For example, he rides a Buell motorcycle. Those things break down so often they ought to come standard with tow rope.” Dante finally straightened up and looked at me. “You don’t have to break up on my account. I don’t care if you go out with him.”
    â€œWell, it’s too late. I already announced it. Inadvertently. To the whole audience during a song break.”
    Dante shook his head again. “I told you that you were too emotional.”
    I could think of many problems I had right then, and none of them had to do with my emotions. They all had to do with guys who liked motorcycles.
    After I went inside—slamming the door to prove to Dante I wasn’t too emotional—I walked over to the phone to call one of my friends. I wished, not for the first time, that I had a twin sister instead of a brother. A sister would have understood how I felt instead of treating me like an idiot for being loyal. Plus, if I had an identical sister, she could, you know, pretend to be me until people forgot I’d humiliated myself at a library fund-raiser.
    I picked up a cordless phone, headed to my